fcTOUNGSaW/RCh 

BOOKS  & 
STATIONERY 


THE   NEW  MAN  AT   ROSSMERE 


THE  NEW  MAN 

AT  ROSSMERE 


BY 

MRS.  J.  H.  WALWORTH, 


Author  of    "THE  BAR-SINISTER,"    "WITHOUT  BLEMISH,"   "OLD 

FULKERSON'S  CLERK,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


CASSELL   &   COMPANY,    LIMITED, 
739  &  741  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1886, 

II Y 

O.  M.  DUNHAM. 


Pres.  of  W.  L.   Mershon  &  Cc 
Rah  way,  N   .  J. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

I.       TlEVINA, .  9 

II.  ONE  VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR,           .         .           20 

III.  THE  MAJOR  AT  TIEVINA,         ...       34 

IV.  THE  GROWTH  OF  A  FRIENDSHIP,          .           46 
V.  THE  THORNS  AT  HOME,           .         .         -57 

VI.  THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME,         ...           70 

VIJ.  INDUCTED  INTO  OFFICE,           .  •      .        .81 

VIII.  PERIODIC  PERTURBATION,     ....           93 

IX.  A  COMMON  DANGER,         .         .                  .in 

X.  OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE,          .         .         126 

XI.     CONTRASTS, 138 

XII.  A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK,           .        .        .         147 

XIII.  AUNT  NANCY'S  MILLENNIUM,  .         .         .     163 

XIV.  A  MORNING  RIDE,        .        .        .         .         172 
XV.     IN  THE  GAP, 185 

XVI.  FACT  AND  PREJUDICE,           .         .         .         193 

XVII.  WIVES,    AND    HOW    TO    MANAGE    THEM,       .       2OI 

XVIII.  GOING  TO  CHURCH,       ....         218 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGE. 

XIX.  MISCHIEF  MONGERS,         ....  230 

XX.  MIND  AND  MUSCLE,      ....  242 

XXI.  ELECTION  DAY,        .         .  .         .256 

XXII.  LOTTIE,  THE  VOUDOO  QUEEN,     .        .  277 

XXIII.  A  WORD  IN  SEASON,        .        ...  286 

XXIV.  THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION,       *        .  299 
»  XXV.  RETROSPECTION,        .....  319 
XXVI.  POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  MR.  POTTER,  333 

XXVII.  WON  OVER,       .        .        .        .        .         .  341 

XXVIII.  CONCLUSION,          .        .        ...        .  355 


THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

TIEVINA. 

THERE  are  certain  localities  in  the  South  for  which 
it  is  difficult  to  forecast  a  bright  future  ;  localities 
which,  for  patent  reasons,  must  remain,  at  least  for 
many  generations  to  come,  what  they  were  and  as  they 
were  at  the  close  of  the  war.  Possessed  of  no  mineral 
resources  suggesting  latent  possibilities  and  inviting 
capital,  there  is  nothing  upon  which  to  found  a  reason- 
able expectation  that  the  sluggish  current  of  their  ways 
will  ever  increase  in  velocity.  Debarred,  by  the  very 
exigencies  of  natural  position,  such  impetus  toward 
improvement  and  progress  as  follows  in  the  fiery  wake 
of  the  locomotive,  the  local  pulse  must  continue  to 
beat  in  unison  with  the  slower  revolutions  of  the  pad- 
dle-wheel, which  still  embodies  for  it  the  acme  of 
speed. 

This  unchangeableness  bestows  that  extrinsic  value 
upon  such  localities  which  belongs  to  the  type  of  every 
age  and  clime  ;  and  whosoever  would  preserve,  as  mat- 


10  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ter  of  story  or  history,  the  record  of  life  as  it  was  in  the 
agricultural  districts  of  the  South,  must  seek  it,  not  in 
the  neighborhood  of  her  Atlantas  and  Birminghams 
and  Memphises,  but  at  the  drowsy  little  shipping  points 
strung  along  the  treacherous  banks  of  the  Mississippi 
River  like  tawdry  beads  on  an  untrustworthy  string,  or 
else  back,  hidden  from  view  by  miles  of  intervening 
timber,  in  the  clustering  hamlets  of  houses  of  varying 
degrees  of  shabbiness,  which  have  a  common  raison 
d' etre  in  the  Court  House  that  proclaims  the  county 
seat. 

In  the  swamp  lands  of  Arkansas  and  Louisiana,  in 
the  "  Piney  Hills  "  of  Mississippi,  and  elsewhere  in  the 
South,  one  may  travel  many  a  day  and  not  lose  sight 
of  these  petrified  neighborhoods  where  things  came  to 
a  standstill,  socially,  long  ago,  and  where  a  week-old 
newspaper  is  the  freshest  link  between  a  world  where 
people  do  and  dare  and  a  world  where  they  endure  and 
remember  ;  places  where  "  mail-day  "  punctuates  the 
week  with  a  single  period,  and  where  the  fluctuations 
of  the  cotton  market  and  the  "  Liverpool  quotations  " 
out-rank  Wall  Street  and  the  Signal  Service  report ; 
places,  in  short,  where  men  with  brawn  and  brain  to 
make  them  the  peers  of  any  man  are  held  in  bondage 
by  the  iron  god  Circumstance,  until  the  possibilities  of 
their  lives  are  reduced  to  zero. 

It  is  in  such  a  neighborhood  and  among  such  people 
that  the  scene  of  the  following  incidents  is  laid  ;  inci- 


TIE  VINA.  1 1 

dents  of  actual  occurrence,  which  your  narrator  has 
simply  portrayed  and  painted  with  their  genuine  sur- 
roundings. The  age  is  altogether  too  urgent  in  its 
demand  for  facts,  for  one  who  seeks  to  please  to  neg- 
lect the  paramount  condition  of  success — veracity ;  and, 
in  verification  of  the  old  saying  that  truth  is  stranger 
than  fiction,  it  must  be  added  that  the  most  improb- 
able-seeming of  the  events  in  this  story  are  the  ones 
described  most  literally  as  they  occurred. 

"  Tievina,"  to  any  one  familiar  with  the  flora  of  the 
South,  and  capable  of  associating  the  name  with  the 
fact  that  the  pestiferously  clinging  vine  known  as  the 
"  tie  vine  "  is  at  once  the  bane  and  the  reproach  of  the 
planter  who  succumbs  to  its  encroachments,  was  the 
unfortunate  but  singularly  appropriate  name  for  a 
plantation  in  the  southern  part  of  Arkansas,  which  had 
been  owned  and  "  run  "  by  the  Southmeads  unto  the 
fourth  generation  of  that  happy-go-lucky  family. 

The  tie  vine,  which  every  zealous  planter  fights  with 
the  energy  of  desperation,  is  a  charming  object  to  the 
botanist,  with  its  dark,  glossy,  serrate  leaves,  its  grace- 
ful tendrils  that  curl  with  vicious  tenacity  about  the 
growing  crops,  and  its  delicate  blue  and  white  flower- 
bells,  morning-glories  in  miniature  ;  but  to  the  tiller  of 
the  soil,  who  knows  by  bitter  experience  that  it  grows 
with  the  magical  celerity  of  Jack's  bean-stalk,  and  that 
those  tender  green  tendrils  take  a  death-grip  with  every 
curve,  it  is  an  object  of  terror  and  disgust.  The  fact, 


1 2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

then,  that  "  Tievina  "  had  been  selected  by  the  owner 
of  the  place  in  question  as  the  only  descriptive  local 
name  at  all  appropriate,  conveys  in  one  word  an  idea 
of  the  place  and  of  its  owner,  Mr.  George  South- 
mead. 

Things  had  not  improved  at  Tievina  since  the  war. 
Rather  had  they  deteriorated  with  the  facility  that 
generally  marks  the  downward  progress  of  men  and 
things.  The  house,  originally  an  imposing-looking 
structure,  built  well  up  from  the  ground,  encircled  by 
broad  verandas,  and  decidedly  "  stylish  "  in  front,  with 
its  couple  of  long  French  windows  opening  on  the  gal- 
lery on  either  side  of  the  large  front  door,  which  with  its 
broad  side-lights  and  transom  gave  light  to  the  long 
central  hall  that  ran  the  length  of  the  building,  seemed 
dedicated  to  the  perpetuation  of  the  gray  of  the  lost 
cause.  Weather-stained  and  paintless,  it  showed  a 
grim  frontage  in  spite  of  the  sheltering  arms  cast  about 
and  over  it  by  more  than  a  score  of  grand  old  pecan 
and  live  oak  trees  crowding  the  space  between  the 
front  door  and  yard  gate.  The  original  plank  fence 
that  had  girdled  the  gray  house  and  its  fine  trees  was 
an  antebellum  boast  of  Mr.  Southmead's,  and  had  cer- 
tainly had  no  near  rival  in  elegance ;  but  it  had  been 
patched  and  repatched,  now  with  old  planks,  now  with 
new  rails,  again  with  piles  of  brush  from  the  thorny 
osage-orange  hedging  that  stretched  its  ragged  length 
about  the  entire  place,  and  most  recently  of  all  with  a 


TIE  VINA.  13 

yard  or  two  of  glittering  barbed  wire  which  had  been 
sent  Mr.  Southmead  by  an  enterprising  dealer  in  novelty 
fencing,  until  its  identity  was  completely  lost  and  its 
solitary  claim  to  respect  now  lay  in  its  being  entirely 
pig-proof.  A  startlingly  ornate  brand-new  front  gate, 
large  enough  for  man  and  beast,  gave  token  that  the 
Southmeads  still  had  spasmodic  movements  in  the 
direction  of  home  decorative  art.  Dumped  in  an 
inconsequent  fashion  about  the  immense  and  weed- 
choked  area  called  the  back  yard,  were  several  out- 
houses, all  antedating  the  war  and  giving  rickety  sug- 
gestions of  better  days,  even  of  a  past  glory  that  had 
found  expression  in  scalloped  eves  to  the  leaky 
roofs  and  latticed  blinds  to  the  unglazed  windows.  A 
new  kitchen  of  unpainted  cypress  lumber  gleamed  redly 
from  among  the  prevailing  grays  and  duns  of  the  prem- 
ises, and  a  plank  platform  connecting  it  with  the  "  big 
house  "  was  regarded  as  quite  a  concession  to  the  mod- 
ern spirit  of  improvement,  as  well  as  to  the  exactions 
of  free  labor. 

Two  or  three  huge  spikes  driven  well  into  the  bark 
of  one  of  the  big  trees  in  the  front  yard,  did  duty  for 
the  horse-rack  that  had  rotted  down  some  two  or  three 
years  before  and  had  never  been  replaced,  owing  to 
pressure  of  other  matters  and  lack  of  suitable  material 
close  at  hand.  "  Besides  "  Mr.  Southmead  had  said, 
arguing  rather  pathetically  against  any  urgent  need 
of  replacement  :  "  it  don't  much  matter  about  a 


14  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

rack  now;     things   are     changed    from    what     they 

were." 

At  irregular  intervals  patches  of  rusty  boxwood  indi- 
cated with  the  precision  of  old  runic  stones  the  loca- 
tion of  the  circular  carriage-drive  that  once  had  been. 
Even  now,  inside  the  vaguely  outlined  circle,  in  early 
spring  a  few  hardy  snowdrops  blossomed  like  ghosts 
revisiting  the  scene  of  their  former  joys  and  triumphs, 
and  vanished  as  quickly  from  the  bare  and  unrespon- 
sive sod.  The  grass  grew  thick  over  the  carriage-drive 
now,  with  none  to  care  to  check  its  rude  encroachment. 
Carriages  were  never  everlasting,  and  unless  Cinderella's 
godmother  should  good-naturedly  volunteer  to  turn  the 
golden  pumpkins,  lying  about  in  the  fields  for  stock 
consumption,  into  gorgeous  coaches  for  the  benefit  of 
nineteenth  century  skeptics,  they  were  not  likely  to 
become  plentiful  in  that  neighborhood  again.  The 
few  rheumatic  and  decrepit  vehicles  which  were 
exhumed  on  occasions  of  universal  public  interest  only 
served  to  point  the  moral  of  universal  decay,  and  to 
them  the  grass  in  the  Tievina  carriage-drive  was  no  dis- 
respect. 

So  much  for  the  exterior  of  Tievina  which  was 
visible  from  the  road  that  ran  along  the  banks  of  a 
beautiful  lake  some  six  or  seven  miles  inland  from  the 
Mississippi  River.  Toward  noon  of  a  morning  in  the 
early  part  of  December,  1870,  the  interior  of  this  estab- 
lishment had  been  startled  out  of  its  slumberous  quie- 


TIE  VINA.  15 

tude  by  Mr.  Southmead  himself,  who  entered  his  wife's 
presence  on  his  return  from  his  usual  rounds  over  the 
place,  and  said,  positively  and  abruptly:  "Amelia,  my 
dear,  I  have  resolved  to  bury  the  hatchet.  It  becomes 
me  as  a  gentleman  to  do  so,  apart  from  the  deuced 
inconvenience  of  not  being  on  speaking  terms  with 
one's  nearest  neighbor  —  and  all  the  snipe  on  his  land 
too  !" 

"Bury  which  hatchet,  Mr.  Southmead? "  his  wife 
asked,  quite  as  if  the  mild  air  about  Tievina  bristled 
with  unburied  hatchets. 

"  The  hatchet  of  sectional  prejudice,  which  has  kept 
us  aloof  so  long  from  our  neighbor,  Major  Denny ! 
The  hatchet  which,  unburied,  must  remain  a  perpetual 
reminder  of  the  wounds  and  scars  of  civil  conflict ! " 
Mr.  Southmead  answered,  a  trifle  grandiosely. 

"Sectional  prejudice!  Major  Denny!  Our  neigh- 
bor! Why,  George,"  Mrs.  Southmead  gasped,  in 
excited  crescendo,  "  he  is  a  Yankee!  " 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can  not  disprove  that  assertion,"  her 
husband  says  lightly ;  "  but,  as  it  does  not  necessarily 
follow  that  he  is  an  anaconda,  I  suppose  we  can  find 
enough  for  him  to  eat  on  Christmas  Day.  I  have 
invited  him  to  dine  with  us  then." 

"  Have  invited  ?  " 

"  Have  invited." 

"  And  you  are  absolutely  committed  to  it  ?" 

"Absolutely." 


1 6  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

Mrs.  Southmead  folded  her  soft,  plump  hands  over 
the  sewing-machine,  whose  wheel  had  come  to  an  aston- 
ished halt,  and  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  dissatisfaction. 
Her  handsome  blue  eyes  were  full  of  the  amazed  con- 
sternation of  a  totally  unreconstructed  rebel. 

"  I  veritably  believe  you  are  the  most  tactless  man 
on  earth,"  she  said,  presently,  as  if  she  had  been  silently 
making  up  her  mind  on  this  point.  "  Of  course,  he 
will  expect  to  be  entertained  like  a  prince." 

"  I  think  his  expectations  will  be  more  than  filled  if 
he  finds  himself  received  like  a  gentleman,"  Mr.  South- 
mead  said,  shortly. 

"  I  hope  I  have  self-respect  enough  for  that,"  she 
said.  "  But  think  of  it,  George ! "  She  resumed  her 
plaint  in  a  pathetic  monotone,  jumbling  together  pat- 
riotism, housewife's  pride,  personal  vanity,  and  inherited 
prejudices,  with  a  reckless  disregard  for  the  unities, 
that  was  pathetically  comic  : 

"A  Yankee!  And  I've  nothing  on  earth  to  wear 
(thanks  to  him  and  his) !  No  champagne !  What  a 
farce  of  a  Christmas  dining!  A  major,  and  they  do 
say  he  lives  like  a  prince  at  home,  if  he  is  an  inter- 
loper !  And  not  a  piece  of  my  best  china  left !  No 
dining-room  servant !  And  a  major  with  his  hands 
dyed  red  in  the  blood  of  my  kindred,  and  yet  we  will 
hobnob  with  him  over  the  poorest  and  skinniest  tur- 
key that  was  ever  killed  since  Job's.  Mercy  !  I  believe 
I  will  send  the  creature  word  I  am  ill  and  can  not  possi- 


TIE  VINA.  17 

bly  receive  company.  Dear  me,  Ursula,"  turning  sud- 
denly toward  the  door  that  had  opened  at  her  back, 
"  do  come  here  and  help  me  out  of  the  mess  your 
Uncle  George  has  gotten  us  all  into." 

The  individual  thus  adjured  advanced  into  the  room 
with  the  most  unsympathetic  of  smiles  playing  about 
her  lips. 

"  Well,  auntie,  what  now  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  you  needn't  say '  what  now '  as  if  I  were  in 
the  habit  of  conjuring  up  troubles  out  of  nothing. 
The  dear  knows  I  have  plenty  of  genuine  ones  on 
hand  without  putting  myself  to  that  trouble.  What 
would  you  say  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  your  Uncle 
George  has  actually  invited  that  Major  Denny,  who 
bought  the  Rossmere  place,  to  dinner  here  on  Christ- 
mas ?" 

"  I  should  simply  say  that  I  was  delighted." 

"  Hurrah  for  'Sula  and  common  sense!"  cries  Mr. 
Southmead,  waving  his  hat  triumphantly  over  his 
head. 

"Why,  auntie,"  'Sula  goes  on  in  her  soft,  coaxing 
voice,  "  Christmas  is  just  the  time  for  a  friendly  over- 
ture of  this  sort.  Peace  on  earth  and  good-will  toward 
man,  don't  you  know?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  know.  I  haven't  quite  forgotten  all  my 
Christmas  mottoes,  if  I  have  lived  twenty  years  out  of 
the  sound  of  a  church-bell ;  but  all  the  Christmas  mot- 
toes on  earth  are  not  sufficient  to  make  me  think  it  was 


1 8  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

right     of    Mr.    Southmead     to    involve    me  in    this 

thing." 

"  Why,  just  think  of  it,  aunt,  this  Major  Denny  has 
been  living  within  three  miles  of  us  for  a  whole  year, 
on  a  plantation  that  he  bought  and  paid  for  promptly 
and  liberally ;  and  we  have  treated  him  with  no  more 
civility  than  if  he  had  stolen  the  place,  and  stolen  it 
from  us  at  that!  Put  yourself  in  his  place,  Aunt 
Amelia.  Oh,  I  think  Uncle  George  has  done  just 
right." 

"  And  you  can  think  so  ?  " 

Ursula  understood  the  emphasis,  and  flushed  to  the 
roots  of  the  soft,  wavy  brown  hair  that  was  parted  over 
her  most  placid  brow. 

"And  I  can  think  so,"  she  said,  with  sweet  gravity. 
"  It  will  not  bring  my  Willie  back  to  me,  aunt,  to  close 
my  hand  and  heart  against  this  stranger  that  is  within 
our  gates." 

"  'Sula,"  said  her  uncle,  laying  his  hand  on  her  head 
tenderly,  "  I  think  on  that  great  day  when  all  the 
rewards  promised  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  to  the 
various  '  blesseds '  shall  be  accorded,  they  will  have  to 
put  the  one  promised  to  the  peace-maker  on  our  little 
girl's  head," 

Before  'Sula  had  begun  her  gentle  little  "  preach," 
as  the  family  called  her  takings-to-task,  Mrs.  South- 
mead  had  one  powerful  ally,  in  her  opposition  to  Major 
Denny's  coming,  in  Frederic,  her  son,  who  had  been 


TIE  VINA.  19 

moodily  drumming  on  the  window  during  the  entire 
controversy.  But  then  Fred  was  sore  just  then  on  the 
subject  of  a  suddenly  terminated  or  interrupted  colle- 
giate course,  and  he  felt  unreasonably  inclined 
to  hold  every  man  from  the  north  personally  responsi- 
ble for  his  father's  lack  of  means  and  his  own  consequent 
misfortune.  But  by  the  use  of  that  magic  re-adjuster, 
"  put  yourself  in  his  place,"  he  speedily  arrived  at  a 
juster  conclusion,  and  showed  himself  quite  ready  and 
even  anxious  to  do  his  share  toward  entombing  that 
rusty  old  hatchet,  which,  after  all,  he  said  bitterly,  had 
inflicted  the  sorest  wounds  upon  those  who  had  first 
held  it  aloft. 

If  Ursula,  widowed  and  desolate,  could  extend  a 
hand  in  amity,  what  was  he  that  he  should  hold  back  ! 

"After  all,  mamma,"  he  said,  magnanimously,  "  this 
particular  fellow  didn't  write  the  emancipation  procla- 
mation, nor  burn  our  cotton  either." 

At  which  they  all  laughed,  Mrs.  Southmead  included. 
It  was  very  difficult  to  regain  her  tragic  attitude  after 
the  concession  of  that  laugh,  so  Mrs.  Southmead  sur- 
rendered the  point  of  the  dinner  ignominiously,  but 
unconditionally. 

"  "Sula,"  she  asked,  with  feminine  inconsequence, 
"  do  you  suppose  it  is  possible  to  turn  that  old  black 
silk  once  more  ?  I  should  like  to  let  him  see  that  I  do 
know  how  a  lady  ought  to  receive !  " 

And  'Sula  thought  it  was. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ONE   VIEW   OF  THE   MAJOR. 

IF  leaning  with  his  elbows  upon  the  window-sill 
raised  to  admit  the  mild  air  which  had  strayed  by 
some  happy  mistake  into  the  month  of  December, 
doing  nothing  but  moodily  wondering  how  much 
longer  it  would  take  the  Southmead  family  to  go  to 
the  dogs  at  their  then  rate  of  progress,  allowing  his 
ears  to  absorb  and  his  memory  to  retain  every  sound 
that  floated  toward  him,  could  be  called  eavesdrop- 
ping, then  Frederic  Southmead  was  guilty  of  that 
naughty  practice  on  the  morning  in  question,  and  met 
with  the  proverbial  bad  luck  of  that  character. 

From  those  morose  meditations  upon  the  fact  that 
he  was  rapidly  approaching  man's  estate,  with  but  a 
partial  education,  no  prospects  and  no  trade,  he  was 
aroused  by  hearing  a  small  imperious  voice  out  yonder 
in  the  new  cypress  kitchen,  which  his  window  over- 
looked, saying,  in  tones  of  lofty  condescension : 

"  Ef  you'll  give  me  a  piece  uv  dough  all  for  meself, 
mammy,  and  yo'  great  big  thim'le,  an'  put  m'  up  to 
table,  an'  tell  me  all  'bout  Kris  Krinkle  while  I  cuts  out 


ONE   VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR.  2 1 

me  little  bitsa  biscuits,  I'll  let  yo'  go  on  rubbin' 
silver." 

By  which  Fred  -  knows  that  Paul  Pry,  as  the  young- 
est son  of  the  house  is  called,  because  of  his  insatiable 
curiosity,  is  in  the  kitchen,  "  pesterin'  "  Aunt  Nancy, 
their  cook,  in  a  way  she  would  not  dispense  with  for 
half  a  year's  wages  ;  and  he  gathered,  furthermore,  by 
the  vibratory  motion  communicated  through  the  con- 
necting plank  platform,  that  Aunt  Nancy  was  doing 
the  baby  despot's  will,  and  finally,  by  the  childish 
chuckle  of  satisfaction,  that  it  is  done,  without  the 
accompanying — "  Dar  you  is !  How  long  you  gwine 
stay  dar?" 

"  Now  about  Kris  Krinkle  !  "  says  Carl,  inexorably. 

Carleton  is  the  boy's  real  name,  but  it  is  seldom 
bestowed  upon  him  except  on  rare  occasions  when 
parental  authority  asserts  itself  in  a  sudden  gusty 
assumption  of  austere  dignity. 

"Well,  honey  chile,  ole  Kris  ain*  never  hurt  hisseff 
a-doin'  fur  you,"  says  mammy,  settling  to  the  work  of 
narration  and  silver-rubbing  simultaneously,  "  but, 
bless  de  lam,  w'en  yer  brer  Freddie  en  yer  sis  Jinny 
were  leetle  like  you,  he  usen  t'  jes'  tum'le  down  de 
chimbly  in  yo'  ma's  room  bodashusly,  wid  his  pack  on 
his  back  !  Stockin's  warn't  nowhars  !  Git  out,  chill'n  ! 
He'd  stuff,  en  he'd  cram,  en  he'd  ram,  till  he  heered  de 
stitches  a-crackin'  long  de  stock-legs,  w'en  he'd  sorter 
let  up  on  de  stockin's  en  go  t'  spillin'  things  'bout 


2  2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ev'awhars,  sorter  permiscus  lak,  fer  yer  buddie  and  yer 

sissie." 

"  May  be  sister  and  buddie  Fred  was  better'n  me," 
says  Paul  Pry,  with  wistful  humility,  "  an*  ole  Kris 
loved  'em  more  !  " 

"  No  sech  uv  a  thing !  "  Aunt  Nancy  answered,  com- 
batively. "  You's  jes'  es  good  es  gol'  w'en  you's  a 
min'  t'  be.  But  I  sorter  'lows,  honey  son,  dat  ole  St. 
Nick  mus'  'a'  ben  a  cott'n  planter  en  done  loss  all  his 
niggers,  or  de  wurrims  mus'  a  strip  his  field,  or  some'n 
nudder  mus'  'a'  give  him  a  mouty  setback,  fur  thar's 
no  two  ways  about  it,  he  do  make  a  mons'ous  po'  show 
dese  days." 

"  But  he's  coming,  though  ! "  Carl  says,  triumph- 
antly, "  and  he's  going  t'  bring  me — bring  me — what's 
he  going  to  bring  me,  mammy? — you  tell." 

"What  does  you  mos'  wish  he'd  brung  yer?" 
mammy  asks,  with  insinuating  cunning,  and  it  is  safe 
to  predict  that  if  the  boy  mentions  any  thing  within 
reach  of  her  slender  purse  it  will  be  forthcoming. 

Upon  which  encouragement  Carl  launches  into  a 
spirited  enumeration  of  his  needs  and  desires,  so  reck- 
less as  to  number  and  magnificent  as  to  quality  that  it 
would  seem  Aunt  Nancy's  hints  about  the  good  saint's 
financial  straits  had  fallen  upon  incredulous  ears. 
While  Carl  grapples  with  "  futures  "  and  his  thimble 
biscuit,  Aunt  Nancy  rubs  her  silver  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  a  retrospective  monologue,  wherein  she 


ONE  VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR.  23 

bewails   the  departed   glory  of  the   house  of   South- 
mead. 

"  C'ris'mus  !  "  she  sniffs,  with  audible  scorn.  "  C'ris'- 
mus  !  Whar's  de  use  uv  havin'  enny  C'ris'muses  dese 
times,  enny  ways?  Whar's  de  eyesters,  en  de  orringis, 
en  de  lemmins,  en  de  citrins,  en  de  reesins,  en  de 
ammuns,  en  de  taller  fur  de  mince-meat?  Wat  sorter 
C'ris'mus  kin  you  mek  out  widout  a  black  cake  en 
mince-meat,  ef  you'll  please  t'  tell  me  ?  Seems  lak  all 
dem  things  usen  t'  come  long  uv  der  own  'cord  sho's 
C'ris'mus  roll  'roun'.  But  they  don'  now,  dat  dey  don'. 
I  ain'  got  no  use  fo'  C'ris'mus  myseff.  I  ain'  sence  we 
done  broke  all  t'  flinders.  An'  we  is  come  down  in  de 
wurrul',  sho  es  gun  is  iern.  En  who's  t'  help  us  up  'gin  ? 
Tell  me  dat,  people  !  Not  ole  marser;  he's  too  sot  in 
his  ways  to  pester  his  head  'bout  free  niggers;  gin  him 
his  setter  pup  en  his  rifle,  en  he's  all  right !  Not  dat 
boy  Freddie,  fur,  Gawd  bless  dat  boy,  he  do  ve'y'ly 
seem  lak  de  lilies  uv  de  fiel*  which  t'iles  not  nuvver  do 
dey  spin  !  Who  den  ?  Dat  baby  a  pluggin'  biskit  out 
wid  my  ole  brass  frim'  le  dar !  Is  we  got  t'  wait  on 
him  t'  pull  us  outen  de  mire  uv  disspon  en  de  bog  uv 
poverty?  Go  way,  people  !  Ain'  I  ben  seed  de  times 
w'en  Marse  George  Southmead  would  'a'  thouten  sech 
doin's  es  we  hes  now  jes'  'boat  fit'n  fur  his  fiel'  han's, 
leave  out  he's  yard  folks !  C'ris'mus,  en  one  lone  toluble 
decen'  turkey,  uv  my  own  fotchin'  up,  en  one  po'  blue, 
skinny  leg  'er  mutt'n,  all  de  show  fur  meat !  Clar  t' 


24  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

goodniss,  de  mutt'n  we  hes  now  is  so  mean,  seems  lak 
it  swinks  up  in  de  b'ilin'  outen  pure  shem-facedniss  fur 
its  own  meanness !  En  comp'ny  comin'  !  Whar's  de 
celery,  en  de  capers,  and  de  pulv'rize  sugar  fur  de  icin' ! 
Whar's  de  grit  in  dat  boy  Fred,  dat  he  don'  tek  his 
gun  en  try  fur  some  wil'  ducks,  at  leas' !  Whar's  enny 
thin'  fitt'n  fur  comp'ny  w'ite  folks?— tell  me  dat." 

"  Cozzie  can  tell  you  !  Cozzie  knows  every  thing," 
says  Carl,  coming  to  a  sudden  halt  in  a  vivid  descrip- 
tion of  a  steam-engine  with  red  wheels  and  a  blue 
boiler,  which  figures  conspicuously  among  his  holiday 
demands,  in  order  to  make  a  suggestion  that  he  thinks 
will  satisfy  Aunt  Nancy's  querulous  discomfort  about 
things  in  general,  or  ought  to  if  it  does  not. 

Aunt  Nancy  was  the  cook  at  Tievina  ;  had  been  ever 
since  she  had  reached  years  of  discretion.  She  was 
black,  ponderous,  and  capable.  Freedom  had  made 
no  appreciable  change  in  her  position  in  the  South- 
mead  family,  unless  by  affording  opportunity  for  the 
exercise  of  certain  benevolent  and  patronizing  ten- 
dencies that  had  never  had  free  play  in  "  reb  times." 
Carl  and  her  cooking-stove  ranked  first  in  her  affec- 
tions. She  had  been  proud  of  the  establishment  in  the 
days  of  its  prosperity;  she  yearned  over  it  pityingly  in 
the  days  of  its  adversity.  It  would  have  been  difficult 
to  imagine  the  domestic  machinery  of  the  household 
moving  at  all  without  its  ebony  mainspring,  Aunt 
Nancy.  In  a  burst  of  humility  and  self-knowledge 


ONE   VIEW  Of   Tff£  MAJOR.  «5 

Frederic  had  once  been  heard  to  declare  that  if  either 
Aunt  Nancy  or  himself  had  to  be  offered  up  a  sacrifice 
on  the  altar  of  necessity  he  would  say,  take  him,  a 
cumberer  of  the  earth,  and  leave  her,  the  very  salt 
thereof. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  call  one's  self  a  cumberer  of 
the  earth,  and  quite  another  to  hear  one's  self  called 
so.  The  old  woman's  words  stung  and  rankled. 

Was  he  really  as  useless  as  one  of  Solomon's  lilies  ? 
and  was  he  totally  devoid  of  manly  "  grit  "  ?  In  a 
spirit  of  sullen  acquiescence  he  sprang  from  his  seat  by 
the  open  window,  swung  his  shot-gun  over  his  shoulder, 
and  left  the  house.  He  would  like  to  fling  a  brace  or 
two  of  ducks  at  Aunt  Nancy's  feet  in  triumph  when 
he  came  back;  but  whether  he  killed  any  thing  or  not, 
he  relished  the  idea  of  a  tramp  through  the  woods  this 
mild  morning. 

The  lake  front  of  Tievina  was  narrow,  not  more  than 
a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  belt  of  woods  that  separated  it 
from  Thorndale,  old  Squire  Thorn's  place,  their  nearest 
neighbor  to  the  right,  to  the  other  belt  of  woods  that 
intervened  between  them  and  Rossmere,  the  plantation 
recently  bought  by  Major  Denny.  It  was  back  in  this 
last  strip  of  woods  that  the  best  duck  ponds  and  the 
snipe  grounds  were  to  be  found  ;  and  in  this  direction 
Frederic  turned  his  steps.  The  fields  were  brown  and 
rusty  with  the  dead  stalks  of  the  cotton  that  had  all 
been  picked,  but  not  so  closely  that  little  dingy  rem- 


26  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

nants  of  the  staple,  bedraggled  and  worthless,  were  not 
to  be  seen  flapping  dismally  at  every  step.  There  was 
nothing  doing  in  any  department,  except  at  the  gins, 
where  the  last  few  bales  were  being  marked  for  ship- 
ment, and  the  moats,  refuse  of  the  stands,  were  being 
ginned  up.  The  soft  puffing  of  the  little  steam  pipe, 
that  sent  quick  white  clouds  up  to  mingle  with  those 
in  the  blue  above,  and  the  crackling  of  dead  twigs 
under  his  own  feet,  were  the  only  sounds  that  followed 
Frederic  into  the  gray  and  leafless  woods.  The  long 
line  of  the  levee,  brier-grown  and  log-encumbered, 
afforded  better  footing  than  the  roadside,  so  he  clamb- 
ered up  it,  and  walked  on  in  the  direction  of  Rossmere. 
The  road  was  badly  cut  up  at  this  season  of  the  year 
by  the  heavily-laden  cotton  wagons,  that  had  but  one 
route  for  the  eight  or  ten  plantations  that  lay  in  what 
was  called  the  bed  of  the  lake,  out  through  the  Ross- 
mere  place,  to  the  river-landing  that  was  now  part  of 
Major  Denny's  property.  The  shipping  of  the  cotton 
all  came  in  between  the  months  of  November  and  Jan- 
uary, when,  of  course,  the  seasons  and  the  roads  were 
at  their  worst,  and  this  especial  piece  of  road,  with  the 
thick  woods  crowding  close  up  to  it  on  both  sides,  was 
so  densely  shaded  that,  once  rain-soaked,  it  became  the 
terror  of  teamsters  throughout  the  entire  hauling 
season.  Hence  it  was  that  when  presently  the  sound 
of  a  fierce  cracking  and  lashing  of  whips,  coupled  with 
every  species  of  objurgation  known  to  the  teamster 


ONE  VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR.  27 

(except  profanity,  which  is  not  the  colored  man's  vice) 
came  to  Frederic's  ears,  he  said,  indifferently,  "  'Nother 
team  bogged  !  "  and  walked  on  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound  without  hastening  his  footsteps.  "  It's  ours, 
too,"  he  said,  with  more  interest  in  his  voice,  as  a  turn 
in  the  road  gave  to  his  view  the  wagon  piled  high  with 
eight  huge  cotton-bales,  the  straining  team  of  six 
mules,  and  "  old  man  Ephe,"  the  head  teamster  on  his 
father's  place,  who  at  that  moment  was  mopping  his 
wrinkled  forehead  with  his  coat-sleeve,  while  he  stared 
with  weary  anxiety  at  the  back  wheels  of  the  wagon, 
stuck  immovably  in  the  stiff  "  buckshot  "  mud.  The 
mules  stood  with  heaving  flanks  and  distended  nostrils. 
The  lash  of  the  whip  and  the  wordy  exhortations  of 
old  Ephe  had  ceased  of  effect.  It  was  an  all-day 
undertaking  to  get  a  load  of  cotton  from  the  gin  at 
Tievina  to  the  landing  out  on  the  river,  and  back  with 
the  empty  wagon.  But  at  the  present  rate  of  progress 
it  was  impossible  for  Ephe  to  say  when  he  would  come 
into  enjoyment  of  the  hot  coffee  and  cold  bacon  and 
greens  his  "  old  woman  "  would  save  for  his  supper. 

"Stuck,  Uncle  Ephe?"  asked  Fred,  coming  abreast 
of  the  wagon  in  the  road,  and  looking  down  from  the 
altitude  of  the  levee  in  helpless  sympathy. 

"  Yes,  chile,  stuck  !  "  said  Uncle  Ephe,  hopelessly 
glancing  up,  and  seeing  it  was  nobody  but  Fred.  "  Ef 
yer  hed  enny  mussil  now  in  them  air  arms  o'  yo'n,  yer 
might  be  some  holp  t'  me,"  he  added,  ramming  his 


28  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

hands  far  down  into  his  pockets  while  he  "  studied  " 

out  what  to  try  next. 

"  Stuck,  old  man  ?  " 

A  second  time  the  question  was  asked,  and  there, 
striding  out  of  the  woods  on  the  opposite  side,  his  feet 
and  lower  limbs  incased  in  long  rubber  boots,  a  gray 
corduroy  hunting  suit  protecting  the  rest  of  him  from 
the  clinging  of  cockleburrs  and  other  woodland  pests, 
came  a  young  man  whom  Fred  said,  in  a  quick  under- 
tone  to  himself : 

"  The  major  !  Must  be  !  Great  Scott,  what  should- 
ers !  " 

"  Stuck,  boss,  de  wuss  sort,"  said  old  Ephe,  doffing 
his  hat  respectfully  to  this  last  arrival. 

"  Tievina  team  !  "  said  the  hunter,  glancing  at  the 
foam-flecked  mules.  "  It  isn't  often  even  these  roads 
get  the  better  of  those  mules." 

"  You  ain'  saying  a  word  too  much  for  dem  mules 
nudder,  boss,  ef  I  does  'ten'  'em.  En  w'en  dese  mules 
stops  jes'  dead  still  in  der  tracks  dey  means  business, 
dey  does  dat." 

"  Let  them  blow  a  little  while,  and  we'll  give  them  a 
lift.  Any  rails  handy  ?  We  can  show  them  that  we 
mean  business,  too." 

"I'll  t'ar  down  a  mile  er  fencin'/'said  Ephraim,  ener- 
getically, "  cf  dat'll  do  any  good,  but  who  gwine  to  pry 
de  wheels  up  while  I  starts  de  mules  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  the  hunter,  laughing,  as  he  stepped  back 


ONE  VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR.  29 

to  the  nearest  tree,  deposited  his  gun  and  game-bag,  and 
quietly  divested  himself  of  his  coat  and  vest,  revealing 
to  Fred's  admiring  eyes,  as  he  stood  there  in  his  dark 
blue  flannel  shirt  and  gray  corduroy  trowsers,  the  finest 
specimen  of  athletic  manhood  his  boyish  eyes  had  ever 
rested  on. 

"  Bring  good  new  rails,  old  man  !"  the  major  called 
after  Ephe,  who  was  plunging  over  the  muddy  road  in 
reckless  indifference  to  his  own  mud-bespattered  condi- 
tion, eager  to  be  helped  out  of  the  bog,  so  that  he  might 
go  his  way. 

"  Pretty  sort  of  work  for  me  to  stand  here  in  Miss 
Nancy  style,  and  let  our  mortal  foe  put  his  shoulder  to 
our  wheel  to  help  us  out  of  the  bog  !"  Fred  said  to  him- 
self, taking  a  proprietary  view  of  the  situation  ;  so, 
imitating  the  major's  actions,  he  soon  leaped  down  the 
sloping  levee  and  stood  by  the  wagon,  slim  and  boyish, 
but  girded  for  effort. 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  he  said,  in  what  he  meant 
to  be  extremely  courteous  terms,  •'  but  I  can't  think 
of  such  a  thing  as  allowing  you  to  exert  yourself  over 
that  wagon.  It  is  my  concern." 

"  Mr.  Southmead,  I  suppose,"  said  the  major,  eyeing 
the  boy  pleasantly  ;  "  we  had  better  shake  hands  before 
mine  become  too  muddy  to  offer."  He  held  out  his  hand, 
and,  somewhat  to  his  own  surprise,  Fred  was  either 
shaking  or  being  shaken  lustily  by  the  hand  the  next 
second.  "  Do  you  think  you  are  equal  to  a  rail  ?"  the 


3o  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

major  asked  slowly,  passing  his  hand  down  the  boy's 

slender  arm  in  search  of  muscle.     "  Ever  used  boxing 

gloves?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Fred,  to  the  last  question,  quite  un- 
able to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  whether  he  ought  to 
be  angry  and  resent  as  an  impertinence  what,  done  as 
it  was,  seemed  a  pleasant  matter  of  course. 

The  large,  clear  gray  eyes  that  were  fixed  pleasantly 
on  his  face  were  so  sensible  and  amiable  that  he  could 
not  think  this  broad-shouldered  athlete  wanted  to  chaff 
him. 

"They've  been  the  making  of  me,"  said  the  major, 
tapping  his  chest.  "Ah  !  here  comes  our  friend  Ephe 
with  the  rails." 

Ephraim  threw  a  pile  of  new  rails  down  at  the  major's 
feet.  The  young  man  selected  one,  and,  walking  around 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  wagon,  he  forced  one  end  of 
it  into  the  soft  mud  under  the  hind  wheel. 

"  Now,  then,  Mr.  Southmead,  if  you  will  just  take 
hold  here  on  this  side,  and  I  on  the  other,  and  press 
downward  with  all  your  strength,  I  think  we  will  soon 
send  Ephraim  on  his  way  rejoicing." 

Ephraim  seized  the  long  reins  and  the  fierce-sounding 
whip  in  readiness  for  the  major's  word,  "  Go."  The 
mules  had  rested,  and  were  willing  to  resume  opera- 
tions. One  stentorian  "  Git  up,  mules  !"  from  Ephe,  a 
jerk,  and  the  wagon  moved  slowly  off  on  to  firmer 
ground,  leaving  Fred  red  and  breathless  and  hatless, 


ONE  VIE  W  OF  THE  MAJOR.  3  I 

while  the  major,  giving  his  head  a  shake  to  readjust  the 
polo  cap  that  had  slipped  over  his  brow,  drew  a  com- 
fortably long  breath,  and  said,  briskly,  with  his  cheery 
laugh  : 

"  There  !  Two  men  are  better  than  six  mules  any 
day.  Been  duck  hunting?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  I  was  just  going  for  some,  when  I  found 
Uncle  Ephe  bogged." 

"  Well,  Ephe's  all  right  now  ;  what  do  you  say  to  a 
tramp  with  me?  I  understand  from  your  father  you 
are.  but  freshly  home,  and  I  suppose  you've  had  time 
to  forget  some  of  your  woodcraft." 

"Ya'as,  sir!  Ephe's  all  right  now,"  the  old  man 
echoed  with  a  joyous  crack  of  his  whip,  "  an'  much 
'bleege,  boss;  hopes  to  do  es  much  fur  you  some  day. 
Git  up,  mules !  I  boun'  I  don'  wan'  to  be  gittin'  home 
midnight." 

"  Thank  you,  Ephe,  but  I  don't  intend  to  get  bogged 
if  I  can  help  it,"  the  major  called  after  him.  "  Look 
out  for  a  bad  place  just  this  side  of  my  gin  gate  ! 
Now,  then,  Mr.  Southmead,  am  I  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  your  company?" 

"  I'll  be  glad  to  go,"  said  Fred,  and  sprang  back  up 
the  levee  after  his  coat  and  gun,  wondering  the  while 
if  it  was  just  right  to  fall  into  line  so  promptly,  as  he 
put  it  to  himself,  with  a  man  against  whom  he  had 
been  nourishing  a  grudge  for  so  long.  But  there  really 
seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  His  compunctions  would 


3 2  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

have  been  lessened  could  he  but  have  known  that  he 
was  experiencing  the  common  fate  of  all  who  came 
under  the  masterful  influence  of  this  man,  who  went 
crashing  through  the  briery  woods  with  a  long,  free 
stride  that  put  Fred  on  his  mettle  to  keep  up. 

"  Going  by  one's  self  so  much  makes  one  selfish." 
said  the  major,  suddenly  slacking  his  speed.  "  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me  to  hold  up  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  care  to  have  you,"  said  Fred,  a 
trifle  blown.  "  I  was  just  wishing  I  could  get  over  the 
ground  as  easily  as  you  do." 

"You  will  in  time;  that  is,  if  you  care  to.     You 
chaps    down  here   are  more   used    to    using    horses' 
legs  than  your  own.     I  never  used  a  piece  of  horseflesh 
until  I  was  far  beyond  your  age." 
"  Is  that  so  ?  " 

Fred  felt,  somehow,  as  if  he  had  been  accused  and 
apologized  for  in  one  breath.  Yes,  he  was  quite  sure 
he  could  not  help  liking  this  "  Yankee  interloper," 
which  was  the  way  his  mother  generally  spoke  of  the 
new  owner  of  Rossmere.  Then  he  gave  himself  up 
entirely  to  the  keen  enjoyment  of  duck-hunting  with 
the  merriest  possible  companion.  Now  frightening  the 
shy  squirrels  with  his  clear,  loud  laugh — a  laugh  sug- 
gestive of  a  clean  conscience  and  healthy  lungs ;  now, 
by  a  rollicking  view-halloo,  scattering  a  drove  of  hogs, 
grunting  and  squealing  their  protest  at  being  inter- 
rupted in  a  persimmon  feast ;  now  swiftly  swinging  his 


ONE  VIEW  OF  THE  MAJOR.  33 

gun  into  position  to  bear  upon  the  blue-winged  teal,  or 
the  heavier  mallard  duck,  that  rose  startled  from  the 
reedy  marshes  of  the  duck-pond,  only  to  meet  sure 
death  on  the  wing  and  fall  fluttering  back  to  earth— 
this  Yankee  major  comported  himself  more  like  a  light- 
hearted  schoolboy  out  for  a  holiday  than  like  a  grim 
invader  who  had  arrogantly  chosen  to  make  his  home 
among  the  people  he  had  helped  conquer. 

"I've  had  a  tip-top  time,  and  I'm  sure  I'm  much 
obliged  to  you,  sir,"  said  Fred,  with  boyish  frankness, 
when,  later  on,  they  stood  where  their  roads  separated. 

"  It  is  just  the  other  way,"  said  the  major,  heartily, 
selecting,  as  he  spoke,  the  finest  brace  of  ducks  in  his 
bag,  and  holding  them  out  to  ask,  a  trifle  hesitantly: 

"  Might  I  venture  to  send  these  to  Mrs.  Southmead, 
with  my  respects  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  she  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  you. 
And,  oh  !  you  know,  I'm  real  glad  you're  coming  to 
us  Christmas." 

"  So  am  I !  "  said  the  major,  nodding  and  turning  off 
in  the  direction  of  Rossmere. 

"  He  walks  like  a  race-horse,"  said  Fred,  looking  back 
over  his  shoulder.  "  I  like  him  !  I  don't  think  there's 
any  doubt  about  it.  He's  a  gentleman,  and  he  called 
me  Mr.  Southmead.  He  doesn't  look  down  on  a  fellow 
that  can't  do  every  thing  as  well  as  he  can  himself." 

Which  was  only  one  of  many  sides  that  Stirling 
Denny  offered  to  the  critics, 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   MAJOR  AT   TIEVINA. 

MRS.  SOUTH  MEAD  could  always  be  relied  upon 
for  looking  after  the  shadows,  so  to  speak.  To 
the  more  superficial  and  frivolous  members  of  the 
family  she  generally  left  the  consideration  of  apparent 
sunshine  and  deceptive  brightness.  No  doubt  this 
inviting  the  owner  of  Rossmere  to  dine  with  them  on 
Christmas  was  quite  a  satisfaction  to  Mr.  Southmead, 
who  was  shockingly  democratic  in  his  tendencies,  and 
was  only  too  ready  to  be  hail-fellow-well-met  with  any 
one  "half  decent"  ;  but  as  for  herself,  she  really  could 
not  forget  that  her  own  father  had  been  the  first  man 
in  the  county  to  move  in  the  matter  of  secession,  her 
own  brother  had  been  captain  of  the  first  company,  the 
"Tricot  Rifles,"  that  had  gone  to  join  "  Daddy  Price  " 
in  Missouri ;  and  wasn't  it  her  own  very  first  cousin 
that,  in  a  perfect  frenzy  of  patriotism,  had  burned  down 
his  own  house,  with  all  its  contents,  books,  pictures, 
pianos,  and  everything,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  their 
falling  into  the  Yankees'  hands  ?  True,  the  Yankees 
never  had  come  within  twenty  miles  of  the  spot  where 


THE  MAJOR  AT  TIE  VINA.  35 

this  costly  holocaust  had  been  offered  up  ;  but,  then, 
poor  dear  Emerson  had  no  means  of  knowing  before- 
hand that  they  wouldn't,  and  the  glorious  principle  in- 
volved was  all  the  same  !  Mrs.  Southmead  might  feel 
slightly  befogged  as  to  what  principle  was  involved  in 
burning  up  all  one's  pretty  belongings,  but  she  would 
not  acknowledge  as  much  for  worlds. 

How  some  people  could  forget  so  easily  and  forgive 
so  readily  passed  her  comprehension  !  There  was  'Sula 
— as  good  a  girl  as  ever  lived  !  'Sula  was  a  green,  gawky 
schoolgirl  when  she,  Mrs.  Southmead,  had  married  her 
uncle.  Mrs.  Southmead  took  considerable  credit  to 
herself  for  'Sula's  subsequent  elegance  and  beauty. 
There  was  'Sula,  left  a  widowed  bride  by  these  very 
men  ;  Major  Denny  presumably  standing  for  the  entire 
federal  army  in  Mrs.  Southmead's  cogitations;  and  yet 
she  was  positively  childish  in  the  pleasure  and  the  busy 
interest  she  took  in  this  dining  !  Dining,  indeed  !  No, 
Mrs.  Southmead  never  expected  to  dine  again.  If  she 
could  satisfy  the  actual  cravings  of  nature  henceforth, 
she  would  ask  no  more.  She  only  hoped  the  actual 
cravings  of  this  interloping  major  would  be  satisfied ; 
she  had  her  doubts  about  that  too.  Mrs.  Southmead 
was  never  without  a  good  supply  of  doubts,  of  assorted 
sizes  and  colors. 

Mrs.  Southmead  turned  herself  deliberately  about  in 
front  of  her  dressing  glass.  "  'Sula  certainly  had  per- 
formed a  miracle  with  that  old  ante  bellum  black  silk. 


36  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE, 

She  hoped  people  would  not  accuse  her  of  the  extrava- 
gance of  buying  a  new  silk  dress  when  Mr.  Southmead 
could  hardly  keep  his  head  above  water."  She  started 
nervously  at  the  sound  of  her  husband's  voice  out  there 
on  the  front  gallery.  It  rang  out  in  cheery  welcome  to 
their  mortal  foe. 

"Get  down  and  come  right  in,  sir.  Just  hitch  "em 
to  the  fence,  major ;  Ephe  will  take  'em  to  the  stable 
right  off." 

"  Hitch  'em,  take  'em." 

Mrs.  Southmead  peeped  cautiously  through  the  slats 
of  the  shutters.  Her  bedroom  was  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  central  hall  opposite  the  parlor. 

Actually  the  man  had  come  in  a  buggy  drawn  by  a 
pair  of  bays !  If  she  could  go  to  a  neighbor's  in  a  dump- 
ing cart,  or  a  wagon  with  work  mules  in  rope  harness 
nowadays,  she  was  thankful.  Fred  had  made  such  an 
ado  over  this  man's  looks  ever  since  he  happened  to 
meet  him  in  the  woods  and  was  treated  decently  by 
him;  she'd  like  to  judge  for  herself!  Well,  he  was 
straight-limbed  and  strong-shouldered,  but  she  could 
pick  out  a  dozen  Southern  men  more  so.  He  had  a 
fresh,  ruddy  look,  and  his  eyes  were  clear  and  gray  and 
pleasant ;  she  could  see  that  much,  as  he  smiled  up  into 
Mr.  Southmead's  face  as  he  came  up  the  walk.  Mr. 
Southmead  called  him  a  handsome  man  !  She  did  not; 
most  emphatically  not.  His  chin  was  too  square. 
There  was  a  hard  look  about  the  lower  jaw,  She  didn't 


THE  MAJOR  AT  TIEVINA.  37 

suppose,  if  that  man  once  made  up  his  mind  on  a  point, 
there  was  any  power  on  earth,  perhaps  none  in  heaven, 
which  could  make  him  alter  it.  Really,  she  must  say 
he  seemed  quite  at  home.  Not  a  single  sign  of  embar- 
rassment. One  would  expect — dear !  he  ran  up  the 
steps  like  a  boy !  She  was  back  at  the  bureau  now, 
applying  the  brush  to  one  of  the  smooth,  glossy  ban- 
deaux that  the  window  curtain  had  treated  disrespect- 
fully. Her  door  was  opened  to  admit  Mr.  Southmead's 
nose  and  voice : 

"  Mother,  our  friend  has  arrived  !  " 

Mrs.  Southmead  made  a  little  grimace  at  the  word 
friend,  then  swept  graciously  into  the  presence  of  this 
interloper,  whom  she  meant  to  place  entirely  at  his  ease 
for  her  husband's  sake  rather  than  his  own.  She  had 
even  formulated  a  little  salutatory  speech  which  was  to 
convey  in  vague  generalities  a  sense  of  magnanimity  on 
her  part,  and  of  being  included  in  an  amnesty  on  the 
major's.  But  the  easy  courtesy  and  the  cordial  smile 
with  which  he  greeted  his  hostess  were  so  express- 
ive of  civil  rights  and  social  equalities  that  Mrs. 
Southmead's  pre-arranged  programme  eluded  her  grasp 
entirely,  and  she  found  herself  stupidly  telling  Major 
Denny  in  the  most  mendacious  way  she  was  glad 
to  see  him,  after  which  she  plunged  into  the  most 
commonplace  discussion  of  the  weather  and  the 
roads. 

"  For  all  the  world,  you  know,"  she  said  to  her  own 


38  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

accusing  conscience,  "  as  if  he  had  been  an  ordinary 
guest,  amenable  to  ordinary  rules  !  " 

There  had  been  ample  time  for  the  slight  frostiness 
that  pervaded  the  social  atmosphere  in  the  big  Tievina 
parlor,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Southmead's  jocular  efforts,  to  be 
thawed  out  between  the  family  and  this  stranger,  whom 
they  certainly  had  not  treated  with  neighborly  kind- 
ness heretofore,  before  Ursula  glided  through  the  door 
that  opened  immediately  into  the  dining-room  to  join 
the  group. 

Carl  had  been  exalted  to  a  seat  on  the  stranger's  knee, 
and  seemed  well  satisfied  with  his  location.  Fred  was 
just  wondering  what  the  major  would  think  of  that 
sweet-faced  woman  to  whom  his  back  was  turned  just 
now.  Mr.  Southmead  extended  his  hand  to  introduce 
his  niece.  Carl  threw  the  entire  group  on  its  beam- 
ends. 

"  Mamma,  what  made  you  say  his  hands  was  dyed 
red.  They's  jus'  as  white  as  mine!"  and  he  placidly 
laid  one  of  his  own  small  hands  full  length  upon  the 
long,  sinewy  one  that  lay  upon  the  major's  knee.  One 
awful,  soundless  second  intervened. 

It  was  not  the  master  of  Rossmere  who  was  covered 
with  confusion  at  this  speech  of  the  boy's.  He  simply 
folded  his  other  hand  over  the  child's,  and  held  it  thus 
while  he  stood  up  to  be  made  known  to  Mrs.  Ralston. 
The  whole  family  were  ready  to  rise  up  and  call  Ursula 
thrice  blessed  for  demanding  an  introduction  at  that 


THE  MAJOR  AT  TIE  VINA.  39 

particular  juncture.  How  else  could  they  have  ever 
clambered  out  of  that  abyss? 

It  was  not  'Sula's  style  to  gush  over  anyone.  A 
dainty  reserve  generally  characterized  her  first  greeting 
of  a  stranger.  It  was  as  if  she  put  them  upon  proba- 
tion, for,  once  admitted  to  her  friendship,  she  was  loy- 
ally true,  but  that  admission  was  granted  slowly. 
Hence,  no  doubt,  Major  Denny  was  indebted  to  Carl 
for  the  offering  of  her  hand  at  first  sight,  in  womanly 
anxiety  to  do  away  with  any  discomfort  the  boy's  luck- 
less speech  might  have  produced.  As  it  was,  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  Arabian  test  of  amity,  eating 
salt  together,  things  were  in  a  most  promising  condi- 
tion for  the  reconstruction  of  the  entire  Tievina  estab- 
lishment. 

It  is  only  under  stress  of  weather  that  the  true 
Southerner  allows  himself  to  be  immured  within  the 
four  walls  of  his  house  for  other  than  sleepingor  eating 
purposes  ;  therefore,  as  the  air  on  this  particular  Christ- 
mas day  was  as  balmy  as  a  New  England  May  day,  the 
major  was  marshaled  by  his  host  direct  from  the  din- 
ing-room to  the  big  cane  chairs  that  furnished  the  front 
gallery  summer  and  winter,  where,  with  a  box  of  cigars 
between  them,  he  and  Mr.  Southmead  were  at  liberty 
to  discuss  the  political  outlook  of  the  county  without 
disquieting  the  women  of  the  household,  or  the  crop 
prospect  without  wearying  them. 

Stirling  Denny  had  elected  to  make  his  home  in  the 


40  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

South  during  what  is  now  known  as  the  carpet-bag  era, 
but  such  had  been  the  dignity  and  circumspection  of 
his  course  that  the  most  inimical  among  his  neighbors 
had  never  even  remotely  associated  him  with  the  gang 
of  unprincipled,  pettifogging  politicians  who  were  even 
then  located  at  the  county  seat,  and  exerting  their  best 
mental  efforts  for  the  subversion  of  law  and  order,  with 
a  view  to  personal  gain  and  their  own  election  to  office 
through  the  franchise  of  the  unlettered  freedman. 
Holding  himself  absolutely  aloof  from  the  boiling  cal- 
dron of  petty  local  politics,  it  was  yet  a  foregone  con- 
clusion that  Major  Denny  was  in  sympathy  with  the 
best  social  element  of  the  neighborhood,  and  would,  if 
occasion  demanded,  show  himself  the  foe  of  disorder 
and  misgovernment. 

Mr.  Southmead  was  the  most  undesigning  of  men. 
When  he  selected  a  cigar  for  the  major,  and  extended 
a  match,  and  settled  himself  comfortably  in  his  big 
chair,  with  his  feet  on  the  banister-rail  of  the  gallery 
and  his  cigar  alight,  he  was  indulging  in  no  conscious 
train  of  thought,  much  less  in  any  intention  to  discuss 
the  political  outlook.  He  was  vaguely  indulging  in  a 
pleasant  after-dinner  consciousness  that  it  was  much 
nicer  having  Denny  sitting  there  on  the  gallery  with 
him  in  this  genial  way  than  stuck  off  at  Rossmere  by 
himself.  His  own  neighborly  short-comings  had  set 
heavily  upon  his  warm  heart,  and  "half  of  it  had  been 
fear  of  Amelia,"  he  acknowledged  a  trifle  scornfully, 


THE  MAJOR  AT  TIE  VINA.  41 

and  Amelia  had  "  caved  "  promptly.  The  fact  was, 
one  had  to  like  Denny  ;  there  was  no  help  for  it. 

The  brown  and  stubbly  fields  of  Tievina  lay  in 
full  view  of  the  two  men  on  the  two  sides  of  the  house. 
In  front,  ran  the  public  road  lying  along  the  lake  bank. 
Down  this  road  a  mule  presently  trotted  slowly  into 
view,  his  lazily  lifted  feet  sending  the  rain-water  that 
lay  in  muddy  pools  in  the  roads  slopping  up  against 
his  own  flanks  and  his  rider's  legs.  But  his  rider  was 
sublimely  indifferent  to  such  small  discomforts,  as, 
with  a  shot-gun  lying  across  the  tall  pommel  of  his 
McClellan  saddle,  his  hands  clasped  idly  over  it,  the 
rope  bridle  swinging  free  about  his  mule's  neck,  his  head 
dropped  upon  his  breast,  and  his  hat  pulled  well  over 
his  eyes,  he  slopped  along  the  road,  trusting  to  his 
mule's  sagacity  to  be  carried  safely  home,  rather  than 
to  his  own  besotted  judgment.  Mr.  Southmead  uttered 
a  contemptuous  laugh  as  the  deliberate  mule  trotted 
leisurely  out  of  sight  with  his  drunken  rider. 

"  Sam  has  a  little  too  much  Christmas  aboard  !  " 

"  Is  that  Sam  Faythliss,  the  engineer  on  the  Wal- 
nut Grove  place  ? "  the  major  asked,  following  the 
mud-bespattered  man  and  beast  with  his  eyes. 

"  The  same !  But  his  present  claim  to  distinction 
lies  in  his  candidacy  for  the  shrievalty  of  this  county." 

"  No  !  " 

"But  it  is  so." 

"  Can  he  write  ?  " 


4  2  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"No." 

"Nor  read?" 

"  No." 

"  Is  he  a  man  of  any  especial  amount  of  discrimina- 
tion ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Unusually  intelligent  ?  " 

"  No." 

"What,  then,  are  his  qualifications  for  this  office?" 

Mr.  Southmead  broke  out  into  a  loud  and  uncon- 
trollable fit  of  laughter.  "  My  dear  Denny,"  he  said 
finally,  "you  must  excuse  me.  But  your  little  cate- 
chism sounded  so  extremely  fresh  and  unsophisticated. 
I  had  heard  that  you  avoided  our  local  politics  as  you 
would  the  plague,  and  small  blame  to  you.  But  I  did 
not  suppose  it  was  possible  for  any  man  to  live  in  our 
midst  a  whole  year  and  not  take  in  something  by 
absorption." 

"  You  forget,"  said  the  major,  in  a  quick,  rebuking 
voice,  "that  my  only  source  of  information,  in  the 
absence  of  a  county  newspaper,  or  such  intercourse  as 
my  white  neighbors  have  denied  me,  has  been  the 
freedmen  on  my  place,  and  from  them  I  would  not 
accept  it." 

"  It's  a  confounded  shame  that  it  has  been  so.  For- 
give me  my  share  in  it !  "  Mr.  Southmead  impulsively 
extended  his  hand,  and  the  other  grasped  it  warmly. 
Then  his  host  undertook  to  enlighten  the  major. 


THE  MAJOR  AT  TIE  VINA.  43 

"  Of  course  you've  heard  of  Gays,  Upps  &  Co.,  over 
yonder  at  Laketown,  the  county  seat?  " 

"  I  have  heard  that  there  were  three  men  there 
named  respectively  Gays,  Upps,  and  Strouther.  Law- 
yers, are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Gays  is  a  sort  of  civil  engineer.  Upps- — '  Judge,' 
they  call  him — is  a  long-eared,  crop-haired,  carpet-bag- 
ging rascal,  who  has  done  more  toward  demoralizing 
the  negroes  in  this  county  than  any  thing  that  could 
be  imagined  ;  and  Strouther  is  a  gentleman  presumably 
interested  in  the  innocent  occupation  of  bee  culture, 
who  is  working  the  county  for  all  it  is  worth  to  get  that 
poor  tipsy  fool  that  passed  here  just  now  elected 
sheriff,  which  will  amount  to  getting  the  office  himself. 
Sam  once  in,  Strouther  is  sure  of  being  his  deputy, 
and  it  will  amount  to  Sam  having  the  experience  and 
Strouther  the  money." 

"  Then  why  don't  Strouther  run  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

"  Strouther  run  !  In  this  county  !  And  openly  ! 
I  tell  you,  sir — " 

Mrs.  Southmead  woke  with  a  jerk  from  the  nap  into 
which  she  had  fallen  in  her  chair.  'Sula  was  placidly 
crochetting  on  an  afghan  which  no  one  ever  expected 
to  see  finished.  Her  aunt  said,  nervously  : 

"  'Sula,  they  are  talking  politics  out  there.  Do  start 
something  on  the  piano." 

"  They  are  both  gentlemen  !  "  Mrs.  Ralston's  needle 
pursued  the  even  tenor  of  its  way. 


44  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"  I  don't  care  if  they  are.  The  time  never  will  come 
when  such  subjects  will  be  safe.  If  you  won't  go  to 
the  piano,  I  will ;  and  I  know  if  he  hears  me  playing 
the  Cracovienne  he  will  be  convinced  he  has  wandered 
into  an  ark.  Dear  me  !  how  cruelly  stylish  he  did  look 
at  dinner  beside  your  poor  dear  uncle.  "  Mrs.  South- 
mead  heaved  one  of  her  ever-ready  sighs. 

"  Uncle  George  would  look  well  in  a  gunny, 
sack  coat,"  said  'Sula,  loyally.  "  But  here  comes 
the  coffee.  That  will  be  a  better  interruption  than 
music." 

Aunt  Nancy  entered  with  the  tray,  on  which  were 
half  a  dozen  cups  of  rich  black  coffee,  a  tiny  pitcher  of 
cream,  and  bowl  of  sugar.  The  after  dinner  coffee  at 
Tievina  was  always  served  an  hour  after  the  meal.  Carl 
was  sent  to  summon  the  gentlemen  from  the  gallery,  and 
'Sula  folded  up  her  work  in  preparation  for  serving  the 
coffee. 

"One  moment,"  said  Major  Denny,  laying  a  detain- 
ing hand  on  Mr.  Southmead's  shoulder.  "I  find  myself 
in  doubt.  Did  you  introduce  your  niece  to  me  as  Miss 
or  Mrs.  Ralston  ?" 

"  Mrs."  Then,  with  the  ready  confidence  character- 
istic of  him,  Mr.  Southmead  added  :  "  Our  girl's  story 
is  a  sad  romance.  She  was  married  one  morning.  Three 
hours  later  her  husband's  company  was  ordered  out  of 
the  county  to  go  to  Virginia.  Last  heard  of  him,  was 
left  behind  in  the  retreat  of  the  army  from  Nashville. 


THE  MAJOR  A  T  TIE  VINA.  45 

Very  ill.  Dead,  of  course.  But  not  proven.  Come ! 
coffee  don't  improve  by  getting  cold." 

Major  Denny  glanced  at  the  slim  figure  behind  the 
coffee  tray  with  fresh  interest  as  he  took  his  seat  beside 
his  hostess  on  the  sofa.  It  certainly  was  a  face  full  of 
intelligent  sweetness — quite  placid  now  ;  in  fact,  much 
more  serene  than  that  of  her  aunt,  who  had  little  lines 
of  perplexity  and  care  criss-crossing  each  other  over  her 
broad  white  forehead.  He  tried  to  imagine  to  himself 
how  that  serene  Mrs.  Ralston  looked  when  her  bride- 
groom was  ordered  from  her  arms  to  dare  the  fate  of 
battle.  He  tried  to  imagine  how  she  bore  first  the  wear- 
ing suspense  of  uncertainty,  and  then  the  shock  of 
knowing  her  bridegroom  was  never  to  come  back  to  her. 
She  did  not  look  like  a  woman  who  had  ever  lived 
down  any  terrible  soul  agony.  There  was  a  pathetic 
droop  about  the  corners  of  her  sweet  mouth  that  was 
full  of  patient  endurance  ;  but  her  brow  was  as  smooth, 
and  the  clear  depths  of  her  eyes  as  untroubled,  as  those 
of  a  little  child  whose  days  pass  like  gleams  of  sun- 
shine. 

These  two  women  were  social  studies  to  him.  Their 
lives  were  unlike  the  lives  of  their  sisters  in  the  more 
crowded  arena  of  the  North  ;  or,  in  fact,  of  any  women 
whom  he  had  ever  met.  Isolated,  without  society  of  any 
sort,  with  no  churches,  no  shops,  no  public  entertain- 
ments of  any  kind  for  mental  refreshment,  they  yet, 
through  the  medium  of  the  papers  and  magazines  that 


46  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

belittered  the  big  table  in  the  hall,  were  as  completely 
au  courant  with  the  world  of  fashion  and  of  intellect 
as  if  they  had  command  of  the  Astor  Library  in  New 
York,  or  access  to  the  bewildering  mazes  of  its  fashion- 
able boulevards.  There  must  be  something  in  such 
women.  He  should  like  to  see  a  great  deal  of  them. 
He  was  quite  sure  he  should  especially  like  to  cultivate 
this  Mrs.  Ralston. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   GROWTH   OF  A   FRIENDSHIP. 

IT  is  impossible  to  conceive  of  anything  more  smoothly 
monotonous  than  the  lives  of  these  two  women  with 
whom  Stirling  Denny  now  found  himself  on  terms 
of  neighborly  intercourse,  and  in  whom  he  was  about, 
equally  interested,  although,  perhaps,  the  halo  of  a 
pathetic  romance  did  tinge  his  bearing  toward  £he  pretty 
young  widow  with  a  degree  more  of  chivalric  warmth. 
Knowing  the  world  through  printed  records  of  its 
doings  and  happenings  alone,  their  interest  in  it  was 
more  that  of  spectators  than  actors  in  the  great  drama 
called  Life.  Their  hopes,  plans,  and  ambitions  were 
all  confined  within  the  boundaries  of  the  ragged  osage- 
orange  hedging  that  defined  Tievina  against  the  rest  of 
the  world.  Tievina's  possibilities  gauged  their  proba- 
bilities. Tievina's  failure,  their  disappointments. 

Mrs.  Southmead  would  like  Fred  and  Carl  to  be  well 
educated,  and  Mr.  Southmead  to  "  work  out  "  of  debt 
to  his  commission  merchants  in  New  Orleans,  and 
"  come  out"  with  enough  money  to  put  a  new  roof  on 
the  house,  and  perhaps  buy  her  an  Alderney  cow.  To 
be  sure,  she  would  like  once  more  in  her  life  to  own 


48  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

some  sort  of  vehicle,  but  a  buggy  and  an  Alderney  cow 
would  cost  pretty  much  the  same,  and  she  supposed 
more  comfort  could  be  extracted  out  of  the  cow  in  the 
long  run.  She  wished  she  was  able  to  experiment  with 
some  of  the  fancy  breeds  of  poultry ;  she  was  tempted 
to  invest  in  bronze  turkeys  at  all  hazards  ;  but  there 
was  not  much  satisfaction  in  gratifying  fancy  tastes 
with  the  levees  either  all  down  or  depending  on  local 
patchwork  for  repairs.  If  government  ever  did  make 
an  appropriation  for  the  improvement  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  she  intended  to  set  out  new  orchards,  and 
have  strawberries  and  raspberries  and  asparagus  beds, 
as  she  used  to  have  them  before  the  war.  Ah  !  people 
lived  in  those  days. 

These  innocent  desires  and  hopes,  generally  includ- 
ing the  mention  of  the  magazines  and  papers  she  and 
'Sula  had  decided  on  for  the  coming  year,  formed  the 
safe  topics  of  conversation  between  the  mistress  of 
Tievina  and  the  new  man  at  Rossmere,  who  entered 
into  a  discussion  of  them  with  vivid  interest.  Their 
simple  desires  and  matter-of-course  deprivations  came 
to  be  discussed  freely  in  the  major's  presence,  as  he, 
following  up  that  opening  wedge  of  the  Christmas  din- 
ner, promptly  gained  a  friendly  footing  at  Tievina. 
There  was  something  pathetic  in  women  who  spoke  of 
such  desires  as  books  and  poultry  as  luxuries  that 
might  be  granted  them  in  a  brighter  future.  Extrava- 
gances of  dress,  possessions  of  jewels,  indulgences  in 


THE  GROWTH  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  49 

any  of  the  charming  frivolities  so  dear  to  the  sex 
within  the  pale  of  city  life,  occupied  no  portion  of  their 
thoughts  or  conversation. 

'Sula's  two  dreams  were,  carrying  Carl  triumphantly 
through  the  rudiments  of  his  education,  and  the 
redemption  of  the  small,  grassy  little  flower  garden  in 
the  rear  of  the  house.  With  the  florist's  catalogue  open 
in  her  hand,  she  would  expand  upon  her  flower  loves 
and  blossom  hopes  with  a  simple  enthusiasm  that 
would  bring  a  pretty  flush  to  her  cheeks  and  an  eager 
brightness  to  her  eyes,  causing  Stirling.  Denny  to 
experience  a  rash  desire  to  fling  his  purse  at  her  feet, 
and  beg  her  to  indulge  every  ungratified  longing  in 
that  direction  at  his  expense. 

An  extract  from  a  letter  written  about  this  time  by 
Mrs.  Ralston  to  Jennie  Southinead,  then  absent  at 
boarding-school,  will  convey  an  idea  of  how  things  pro- 
gressed between  the  new  man  at  Rossmere  and  the 
most  conservative  people  in  the  country.  It  was  evi- 
dent 'Sula  never  once  suspected  that  she  and  her  aunt 
were  posing  as  curiosities  for  their  Northern  neighbor  : 

"  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Uncle  George,  with 
his  unflagging  dissertations  about  crops,  the  superiority 
of  buckshot  land  over  sandy  for  cotton  production,  his 
preference  fora  '  Henry  '  over  a  '  Winchester'  rifle,  the 
good  and  bad  points  of  this  setter  or  that  pointer,  the 
habits  and  habitat  of  our  swamp  partridges  and  snipe, 
can  not  but  prove  sometimes  wearisome  to  such  a  man  as 


50  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Major  Denny,  and  that  your  mamma,  dear  soul  !  will 
sometimes  forget,  and  touch  on  war  times,  from  which 
she  dates  every  discomfort  of  her  life,  the  '  new  man 
at  Rossmere,'  as  they  call  him  about  here,  seems 
fairly  well  inclined  to  follow  up  our  tardy  overtures 
of  friendship  by  a  neighborly  cordiality  which  it 
requires  no  great  exertion  of  Christian  charity  on 
our  part  to  reciprocate.  I  think  adaptability  must 
be  one  of  our  new  friend's  most  shining  attributes. 
You  know  George  Eliot  says  l  the  maggot  must  be 
born  in  the  cheese  to  like  it,'  and  that  element  of 
familiarity  with  his  dismal  surroundings  is  not 
his.  I  should  think  life  on  a  Southern  plantation 
would  be  very  trying  to  him.  It  is  evident  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  has  been  spent  in  towns.  He  talks  quite 
knowingly  of  Wall  Street.  Sometimes  auntie's  curios- 
ity runs  away  with  her  politeness,  and  she  will  let  fall 
an  inquisitive  remark  about  his  immuring  himself  in  the 
wilds  of  Arkansas.  He  parries  her  thrust  skillfully, 
but,  while  leaving  her  uninformed,  conveys  the  impres- 
sion that  necessity,  not  choice,  has  given  him  to  us  for 
a  neighbor.  You  ask  me  how  he  looks;  all  I  can  say 
is,  he  suggests  Hercules  rather  than  Apollo.  If  I  were 
a  man,  I  think  I  should  think  twice,  perhaps  oftener, 
before  provoking  him  to  lift  that  strong  right  arm 
against  me.  His  head  has  a  rough-hewn,  massive  look, 
and  his  eyes,  clear  and  gray,  with  heavy  dark  brows  and 
lashes  to  them,  are  as  penetrating  as  a  hawk's.  Our 


THE  GRO  WTH  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  5 1 

men,  three  in  number,  I  would  have  you  know,  are  '  his 

• 

truly.'  I  think  when  men  do  surrender  it  is  more  uncon- 
ditionally than  with  women.  Your  father,  Fred,  and 
Carl  are  outspoken  in  their  admiration.  Your  mamma 
is  trying  to  effect  a  compromise  with  conscience,  while 
I — well,  I  am — your  affectionate  cousin, 

"  URSULA  RALSTON." 

Thus  abruptly  and  airily  Mrs.  Ralston  veered  from 
a  pronounced  opinion  on  her  own  part.  She  folded 
and  enveloped  and  stamped  this  letter,  and  carried  it 
immediately  down-stairs.  To-morrow  was  mail-day. 
By  daybreak  old  Ephraim  would  mount  his  mule,  and, 
with  his  oil-cloth  bag  slung  over  his  shoulder,  would  ride 
in  to  the  "landing"  with  the  week's  accumulation  of 
letters,  and  bring  back  whatever  the  weekly  packet 
might  have  deposited,  in  way  of  news,  for  Tievina. 

Mr.  Southmead  entered  the  sitting-room  immediately 
behind  her  with  the  blustering  impetuosity  of  a  whirl- 
wind, his  riding-whip  in  his  hand,  and  his  spurs  still 
strapped-to  his  heels. 

"  Well,  wife,  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  latest  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  the  air  of  a  person  who  has  news  so  per- 
fectly adapted  to  astound  that  he  can  afford  to  dally 
with  the  curiosity  of  his  hearers. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea.  If  you  have  any  thing 
at  all  to  tell  us,  I  wish  you  would  do  it  without  so  much 
preliminary  ado." 

'V  Preliminary  ado  !  '     This  is  an  occasion  which  de- 


5  2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

mands  preliminary  ado  and  an  exercise  of  extreme  dis- 
crimination beforehand,  in  order  to  superinduce  proper 
assimilation  subsequently,"  said  Mr.  Southmead,  throw- 
ing this  grandiose  sentiment  in  one  direction  and  his 
hat  and  whip  in  another,  as  he  seats  himself  to  enjoy 
his  wife's  evident  eagerness. 

"  George,  you  can  be  so  very  silly  for  a  man  of  your 
age.  You  know  the  old  adage  ?  " 

"About  old  fools?  Now,  that  is  a  remarkable  coin- 
cidence !  Old  fools  is  the  text  of  my  remarks.  At 
least,  an  old  fool." 

"Who?" 

"  Squire  Thorn." 

Mrs.  Southmead  sat  bolt  upright  in  her  rocking- 
chair,  the  acme  of  interest  on  her  part  reached. 

"  What  of  him  ?  " 

"  He  is  married." 

" '  Married  !  '     Mr.  Southmead,  I  don't  believe  you." 

"  I'm  not  at  all  surprised.  I  don't  believe  I  would 
have  believed  it  if  I  had  not  seen  it." 

"  '  It ! '     Did  Squire  Thorn  marry  an  it  ?  " 

"The  presumption  is  he  married  a  woman.  The 
strange  part  is  that  a  woman  should  have  married 
him.  " 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  your  story  as  correctly  as  you 
can,  Mr.  Southmead." 

"Well,  I  believe  I've  about  told  it  all  in  an  ejacula- 
tory  fashion.  As  Denny  and  I  stopped  at  the  cross-roads, 


THE  GROWTH  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  53 

on  our  way  back  from  the  snipe  ground — by  the  way, 
Carl,  step  into  the  kitchen  and  tell  Aunt  Nancy  not  to 
cook  those  snipe  to  a  cinder  to-night — old  Thorn's  team 
came  jolting  by  with  two  or  three  trunks  in  the  wagon, 
and  close  behind,  on  the  squire's  white  mare,  rode 
Deb,  his  stock-minder.  It  was  such  an  unusual  sight, 
any  body  astride  of  '  Old  Whitey '  but  the  squire  him- 
self, that  I  took  it  upon  me  to  ask  Deb  what  was  up. 
The  scamp  doubled  himself  up  as  if  he'd  been  seized 
with  sudden  cramps,  and  answered,  '  De  ole  man's 
ahead  in  his  kerridge  wid  de  young  missus.'  '  Young 
missus!'  I  echoed,  and  then  he  told  me  that  the 
squire  had  brought  a  wife  home  from  Alabama. 
Came  up  on  the  Grand  Republic  to-day." 

"  Mr.  Southmead,  do  you  suppose  any  man  could 
have  the  effrontery  to  take  a  woman  to  such  a  place  as 
Thorndale  ?  " 

"  It  seems  the  squire  has." 

"  I  pity  that  woman !     From  my  heart  I  do." 

"  Don't  be  premature.  Let  us  wait  until  she 
demands  it.  Maybe  they  are  a  match." 

"  A  match  !  Squire  Thorn's  match  was  never  cast 
in  feminine  mold.  She  must  needs  be  homely, 
penurious,  and  crabbed  in  temper  to  match  him." 

"  On  the  contrary,  Deb  says  she's  the  handsomest 
'  w'ite  lady  in  these  parts.'  " 

"  No  doubt  Deb  is  an  excellent  judge,"  said  Mrs. 
Southmead,  loftily. 


54  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"  Well,  we  will  have  to  hold  our  opinion  of  Mrs. 
Thorn  in  abeyance  until  we  have  paid  our  bridal 
call." 

"Bridal  call!  I'm  not  so  sure  we  are  called  on  to 
indorse  Squire  Thorn's  folly  to  that  extent,  Mr. 
Southmead." 

"  Indorse  him  !  Why,  bless  my  soul,  I  am  grateful 
to  him.  I  regard  every  man  who  imports  a  white  face 
into  this  neighborhood  as  a  benefactor  of  his  race  !  I 
am  grateful  to  the  squire  for  helping  recivilize  the  old 
county.  I  consider  he  has  acted  in  the  interests  of  his 
section." 

Mrs.  Southmead  cut  short  this  vivacious  indorsement 
of  the  squire.  "  I  hope  his  wife  will  be  able  to  share 
your  enthusiasm  over  her  husband  at  the  end  of  her 
honeymoon.  As  for  myself,  I  can  not  say  I  derive 
much  comfort  from  seeing  the  old  plantations  fill  up 
with  every  sort  of  person." 

"  By  George  !  If  by  every  sort  of  person  you  mean 
Denny,"  said  Mr.  Southmead,  ever  on  the  alert  in 
defense  of  his  new  friend,  "it  is  a  great  pity  the 
country  can't  be  filled  up  with  every  sort  of  per- 
son." 

"  Mr.  Denny  is  rather  a  remarkable  man."  Mrs. 
Southmead  ignored  the  major's  title,  as  if  thereby  to 
cancel  his  war  record.  "  But  I  can  not  quite  forget 
what  his  relations  to  us  were  during  war  times.  There 


THE  GROWTH  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  55 

is  a  lingering  sense  of  discomfort  that  will  not  down, 
even  when  he  is  most  brilliantly  entertaining." 

"A  lingering  sense  of  fiddlesticks,  my  dear! — 
meaning  no  disrespect  to  you.  As  for  me,  I  hope 
Major  Denny  and  Mrs.  Squire  Thorn  will  prove  them- 
selves the  pioneers  of  a  new  social  order  among  us. 
We  are  absolutely  musty.  We  need  one  or  two  reno- 
vators badly  enough." 

"  I  am  afraid  Ursula,  with  that  foolishly  warm  heart 
of  hers,  will  be  hankering  to  welcome  this  new-comer. 
We  must  not  be  premature,  dear.  The  woman  who 
could  marry  Squire  Thorn  can  not  be  much  of  an 
acquisition." 

Mrs.  Southmead's  ever  anxious  soul  turned  to  this 
fresh  phase  of  the  subject.  'Sula  was  an  excellent 
creature  in  most  respects,  but  she  needed  pruning  in 
the  region  of  her  heart.  Her  sympathies  were  entirely 
of  too  rank  a  growth ;  they  spread  out  in  every 
direction,  threatening  to  choke  with  their  luxuriant 
offshoots  and  clinging  tendrils  every  avenue  of 
approach  to  her  reason.  'Sula  was  accustomed  to  this 
little  air  of  patronage  on  the  part  of  the  aunt,  who  was 
really  one  of  her  dependencies,  but  she  was  one  of 
those  wise  women  who  never  fought  windmills.  She 
was  busy  during  the  discussion  gathering  the  scat- 
tered letters  and  buttoning  them  up  in  the  mail- 
bag. 

"  I  agree  with  uncle  and  you  both,  Aunt  Amelia," 


3 6  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSS  MERE. 

she  said.  "  I  think  we  need  an  influx  of  new  people, 
but  I  doubt  if  Squire  Thorn  could  import  the  right 
sort.  But,  of  course,  we  will  call  in  due  course  of 
time  and  judge  for  ourselves." 

Which  ended  the  discussion  of  Mrs.  Thorn  for  that 
time. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   THORNS  AT  HOME. 

IN  the  meantime,  all  unconscious  of  the  lively  interest 
their  arrival  was  creating  in  the  breasts  of  the  few 
who  knew  of  it,  the  Thorns  were  approaching  the  old 
house  hidden  away  behind  a  double  row  of  gloomy 
cedars,  and  known  as  "  Thomdale,"  as  fast  as  a  very 
tired  pair  of  mules  could  drag  a  very  frail  vehicle, 
whose  wheels  creaked  and  groaned  from  excessive 
dryness  in  the  wooden  parts  of  them,  and  from  exces- 
sive rustiness  in  the  iron  parts  of  them,  through  the 
somber  woods  where  the  road,  hard  enough  to  traverse 
by  the  aid  of  the  brightest  sunlight,  was  now  obscured 
by  the  shadows  of  the  dense  forest-growth  and  the  dark- 
ness of  approaching  night,  to  such  an  extent  that  if 
the  driver  and  his  mules  had  not  possessed  an  intuitive 
sense  superior  to  the  organ  of  sight  or  the  faculty  of 
memory,  the  Thorns  would  have  run  serious  risk  of 
spending  the  night  in  the  damp  and  stumpy  woodland 
that  formed  a  portion  of  Squire  Thorn's  ancestral 
acres. 

If  the  veil  of  darkness  had  not  been  charitably  cast 
about  the  carriage  thus  jolting  over  the  tree  stumps  and 


58  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

into  the  sunken  wagon  ruts  for  which  that  strip  of 
woodland  was  deservedly  famous,  Squire  Thorn  him- 
self might  have  been  commented  upon  as  looking  essen- 
tially ancestral ;  the  grayness  and  the  ruggedness  of 
him  seemed  so  entirely  in  keeping  with  the  gray-bearded 
and  gnarly-rooted  trees  around  him. 

The  new  possessor  of  his  name,  toward  whom  he 
glanced  every  little  while  with  satisfaction  evidently 
tinctured  with  nervousness,  presented  a  sharp  physical 
contrast  to  him  in  every  respect.  But,  then,  the  squire 
seemed  fated  only  to  attract  attention  by  some  such 
sharp  antagonism  as  was  presented  by  his  harsh  home- 
liness to  his  wife's  rich,  warm  beauty  of  form  and  color. 

He  was  called  one  of  the  representative  men  of  his 
county.  So  was  Mr.  George  Southmead.  The  two 
men  were  as  far  asunder  in  every  mental  and  moral 
characteristic  as  if  they  had  been  born  at  the  opposite 
poles,  centuries  of  time  intervening.  Throughout  the 
entire  year,  with  the  exception  of  the  two  hot  months 
of  August  and  September,  he  had,  heretofore,  lived 
alone  with  his  plantation  hands  for  all  company  beyond 
an  occasional  ride  on  old  Whitey  out  to  the  landing  to 
see  about  shipping  cotton  to  New  Orleans,  or  ordering 
meal  and  pork  from  St.  Louis.  He  attended  as  assidu- 
ously to  his  planting  interests  as  if  he  were  not  already 
secured  from  possibility  of  need  in  his  old  age,  or  as  if 
he  had  a  host  of  successors  to  inherit  his  carefully  gar- 
nered income ;  whereas,  so  far  as  anyone  knew  to  the 


THE  THORNS  A  T  HOME.  59 

contrary,  the  name  of  Thorn  would  expire  with  himself. 
"And  small  loss  to  the  world,"  Mrs.  Southmead  would 
add  tartly.  Where  one  person  would  pityingly  speak 
of  Squire  Thorn  as  a  "lonely  old  man,"  three  would 
energetically  add,  "he  deserved  to  be."  The  two 
"  sickly  months,"  as  August  and  September  were  locally 
designated,  Squire  Thorn  annually  dedicated  to  recu- 
peration. As  that  season  rolled  around  he  would  be 
seen  divested  of  the  stringless  shoes  and  collarless  shirt 
and  lint-covered  plantation  suit  of  gray  jeans  which 
were  as  well  known  in  the  neighborhood  as  was  old 
Whitey,  the  "  flea-bitten  "  gray  mare  he  had  been  rid- 
ing for  ten  years,  and,  clothed  with  an  assumption  of 
style  that  only  brought  the  hard  rough  hands,  the 
coarse  yellow  skin,  the  unkempt  gray  beard,  and  the 
general  roughness  of  the  man  into  startling  relief,  amb- 
ling leisurely  down  to  the  river  landing  to  "  hail  in  " 
the  first  upward  bound  boat.  His  departure  never 
caused  so  much  as  a  ripple  in  the  social  circle  of  which 
he  was  nominally  a  member.  People  would  say,  "  Old 
Thorn's  off  to  the  mountains,"  when  he  went ;  when 
he  returned  they  would  say  "  Old  Thorn's  back  again, 
looking  ten  years  younger."  But  it  never  occurred  to 
anyone  that  this  rejuvenation  of  the  squire's  was  cause 
for  rejoicing  or  congratulation. 

Gossip  is  at  a  discount  in  such  a  neighborhood  as  we 
are  dealing  with ;  a  happy  state  of  affairs,  which  is 
more  the  result  of  topography  than  any  moral  supe- 


60  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

riority  on  the  part  of  its  inhabitants.  When  a  woman's 
nearest  neighbor  is  six  miles  off,  with  impassable  roads 
intervening  for  months  together,  she  learns  to  digest 
the  most  astounding  local  happenings  in  silent  forti- 
tude, or,  by  viewing  them  from  every  point  of  view,  as 
she  has  ample  opportunity  for,  before  she  can  possibly 
impart  them  again,  resolves  the  news  into  its  original 
nothingness,  not  worthy  of  being  hawked  in  a  market 
where  novelty  is  a  prerequisite. 

This  is  why  neither  the  departure  of  a  first  Mrs. 
Thorn,  who,  finding  life  plus  the  squire  too  heavy 
a  burden  to  be  borne,  had  quietly  slipped  her  moorings 
one  summer  day  eight  years  gone  now,  nor  the  arrival 
of  another  woman  who  had  rashly  lifted  that  burden 
once  more,  was  calculated  to  stir  the  sparse  neighbor- 
hood to  more  than  a  glimmer  of  interest.  In  fact, 
after  Mr.  Southmead  and  the  major  had  heard  the  news 
from  Deb,  and  the  former  had  retailed  it  to  his  wife 
and  Ursula,  there  was  no  one  to  hear  it,  maybe,  for 
days  and  days  to  come. 

Mrs.  Thorn  stirred  slightly  in  her  corner  of  the  car- 
riage, and  looked  out  of  the  window  at  a  tall  brick 
chimney-stack  which  loomed  majestically  skyward,  as 
the  woods  suddenly  terminated  in  the  edge  of  a 
clearing,  and  the  driver  sprang  nimbly  to  his  feet  to 
open  an  unseen  gate. 

"  I  thought  you  was  asleep !  There's  your  gin-house, 
Mrs.  Thorn.  We  are  going  through  your  first  gate 


THE  THORNS  A  T  HOME.  6 1 

now  !  You  are  almost  home.  You  can  see  the  lights 
in  the  gable-end  of  your  house  yonder,"  the  squire 
says,  quite  as  if  he  were  conscientiously  minded  to 
put  into  practice  the  endowment  clause  of  the  marriage 
ceremony  that  had  so  lately  given  him  that  handsome 
wife  of  his. 

"  The  gin-house  promises  well.  It  has  quite  a  stately 
look.  But,  as  I  have  never  trained  my  eyes  to  pierce 
Stygian  blackness,  I  can't  say  that  I  see  the  house," 
came  in  languid  response  from  Mrs.  Thorn's  corner. 

"  Stygian  which  ?  If  you'll  crane  your  neck  around 
Ben's  back  a  little,  you  can  see  something." 

Mrs.  Thorn  yawned  audibly,  and  apologized  politely. 

"  I  hope  your  people  will  have  a  good  supper  for  us. 
This  three  hours'  ride  over  these  terrible  roads  has  left 
me  famished  and  exhausted." 

"  I  hope  you  ain't  easily  knocked  up,"  the  squire 
says,  with  anxious  memories  of  doctors'  bills  and  medi- 
cine bottles  intruding  themselves.  "Yes!  old  Lucy'll 
have  something  for  you  to  eat.  Hurry  up  the  mules, 
Ben." 

Mrs.  Thorn  shivered — not  from  cold — and  relapsed 
into  silence.  And,  the  next  morning,  when  the  squire's 
wife  opened  her  eyes  for  a  first  daylight  view  of  her  new 
home,  she  shivered  again,  not  with  cold,  for  it  was  the 
sixth  day  of  April,  and  the  air  was  soft  and  balmy, 
while  from  the  swaying  branches  of  a  locust  tree,  whose 
white  flower  cones  tapped  the  shutters  of  her  chamber, 


62  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

swinging  their  sweet  incense  on  the  fresh  morning  air, 
she  heard  the  varied  but  disconnected  notes  of  two 
rival  mocking-birds— sure  sign  that  spring's  supremacy 
was  fairly'established,  and  that  the  balmy  air  was  no 
temporary  freak. 

Mrs.  Thorn  sat  bolt  upright  in  bed,  and  took  her  first 
leisurely  survey  of  her  bridal  chamber.  It  was  not  a 
reassuring  outlook.  The  original  "  Thorn  "  who  had 
built  the  house  had  started  it  in  a  spirit  of  concession 
to  feminine  exactions.  The  overseer's  house  had  been 
"  good  enough  for  him  "  until,  in  an  indiscreet  moment, 
he  had  sought  the  Widow  Hamlin  in  matrimony.  The 
widow  had  led  him  on,  to  the  pitch  of  building  this 
house  at  Thorndale,  and  completing  it  as  far  as  it  ever 
had  been  completed,  then  suddenly  concluded  to  sell 
out  her  own  place  and  move  to  Texas,  which  she  had 
done  with  heartless  indifference  to  her  suitor's  crushed 
hopes  and  useless  expenditure.  The  present  Thorn  had 
become  master  of  Thorndale  just  before  the  war  (the 
universal  point  of  departure  of  the  South).  He  had 
always  intended  to  finish  the  house,  but  never  had. 
Before  the  war  he  had  use  for  but  a  portion  of  it ; 
during  the  war  he  didn't  know  what  moment  he  might 
be  "  run  out  "  of  it ;  and  since  the  war  he  had  been  too 
poor. 

So  the  room  upon  which  Mrs.  Thorn's  handsome  eyes 
rested  with  grave  inspection  was  not  an  elegant  one  in 
any  respect.  The  rough-hewn  rafters  were  in  full  view 


THE  THORNS  AT  HOME.  63 

overhead,  now  dark  with  the  smoke  of  many  fires.  The 
side  walls  had  been  planked  up  to  within  about  two  feet 
of  the  point  where  a  ceiling  would  have  begun,  then 
suddenly  ceased,  leaving  ample  and  unique  space  for 
ventilation  running  around  the  two  inner  walls.  This 
plank  partition  and  the  brick  chimney  which  stood  re- 
vealed from  the  broad  hearth  up  to  the  point  where  it 
pierced  the  pointed  gable  up  there  among  the  smoky 
rafters,  had  once  boasted  a  coat  of  whitewash.  The 
smoke  had  done  its  part  by  the  whitewash  too.  A  very 
tall  mantelpiece  of  unpainted  white  pine  wood  spanned 
an  extremely  spacious  fireplace,  about  which  a  broad 
brick  hearth  was  laid,  whose  surface  was  sunken  into 
many  hollows  by  the  weight  of  the  heavy  sticks  of 
wood  used  on  the  big  iron  fire-dogs,  setting  back  in  the 
black,  cavernous  chimney.  These  fire-dogs  were  an- 
cestral and  rickety  and  unsatisfactory,  as  the  majority 
of  the  squire's  possessions  were.  They  were  like  ill- 
assorted  couples  of  a  higher  order.  Having  never  been 
meant  for  mates,  they  bore  the  burdens  cast  upon  them 
unevenly  and  unhelpfully.  Enforced  companionship 
only  made  their  incompatibility  the  more  patent.  One 
leaned  one  way,  and  the  other  another.  Crooked  inde- 
pendence and  nominal  companionship  was  all  they  had 
ever  attained  unto.  "Blinds"  of  green  and  white 
striped  cotton  "  drilling,"  held  rigidly  perpendicular  by 
little  round  sticks  slipped  into  broad  hems  at  the  bot- 
tom, secured  Mrs.  Thorn's  privacy.  An  ink-stained 


64  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

writing-desk,  where  the  squire  kept  his  cotton  books 
and  wrote  his  few  business  letters  ;  a  bureau  whose  lost 
casters  had  been  replaced  by  plugs  of  brown  paper  and 
chips  of  wood;  a  table  with  one  leaf  gone,  and  an 
alarming  appearance  of  decrepitude  about  the  legs ;  a 
rocking-chair,  with  one  arm,  and  a  sunken  seat  of  deer- 
hide,  with  the  hair  on  ;  a  hideous  eight-day  clock,  with 
a  harsh  voice,  and  a  lady  in  a  low-necked  red  dress  with 
a  big  red  rose  in  her  very  black  hair  ornamenting  the 
glass  door;  a  blue  and  white  patchwork  quilt  on  the 
bed,  which  was  guiltless  of  a  tester — completed  the  in- 
ventory of  unlovely  objects  upon  which  Mrs.  Thorn's 
eyes  opened.  Her  own  trunks  arranged  against  the 
wall  were  the  only  familiar  objects  that  met  her  gaze, 
and  they,  in  their  portly  elegance,  looked  as  much  out 
of  place  as  she  felt. 

She  shuddered  as  the  memory  of  the  supper-table 
over  which  she  had  presided  the  night  before  rushed 
over  her.  She  stretched  her  hands  despairingly  out  over 
the  blue  and  white  patchwork  quilt,  but  drew  them 
quickly  back  with  a  gesture  of  disgust.  She  loathed 
patchwork  quilts;  she  loathed  patchwork  of  any  sort — 
all  the  while,  perhaps,  bitterly  conscious  that  she  was 
making  a  very  sorry  piece  of  patchwork  out  of  her  own 
life. 

The  harsh-voiced  clock  struck  seven.  She  supposed 
she  ought  to  be  up.  The  clock's  voice  made  her  think 
of  Squire  Thorn's.  He  had  gotten  up  at  the  first  peep 


THE  THORNS  AT  HOME.  65 

of  daylight  through  the  green  and  white  blinds,  and 
had  gone  clattering  noisily  about  in  his  heavy  mud 
boots  through  the  bare-floored  halls  and  the  long  gal- 
leries. It  was  a  prime  article  of  Squire  Thorn's  belief 
that  to  get  up  at  the  merciless  hours  of  four  in  sum- 
mer and  six  in  winter  must  result  in  his  ultimate  health, 
wealth,  and  wisdom.  It  mattered  very  little  that  things 
on  his  place  were  notoriously  at  sixes  and  sevens ;  that 
his  stock  and  his  flocks  of  sheep  were  diminishing  with 
suspicious  rapidity  ;  that  his  fields  bristled  with  ambi- 
tious young  shrubs  and  saplings  ;  that  his  cabins  were 
more  shackling  and  unsafe  than  any  body  else's.  All 
that  was  the  inevitable  outcome  of  "  freedom."  He 
did  his  duty  by  getting  up  at  daybreak,  mounting  old 
Whitey  and  riding  through  the  quarter  lot,  where  a 
few  sleepy  curs  yelped  drowsily  at  his  heels,  or  a  plow- 
man or  two  would  leisurely  nod  to  him,  as  with  bridles 
and  collars  thrown  across  their  shoulders  they  would 
saunter  in  the  direction  of  the  mule  lot.  Squire  Thorn 
hoped  much  from  the  moral  effect  of  his  own  presence 
so  early  in  the  morning ;  after  which  he  was  content  to 
return  to  the  house  and  sit  with  idly  folded  hands, 
ruminating,  with  knitted  brows,  as  he  chewed  savagely 
upon  the  ends  of  his  wiry  gray  mustache,  until  the 
mules  entered  the  lot  hard  by  to  be  breakfasted. 
On  this  especial  morning,  with  amiable  considera- 
tion, he  had  informed  his  wife  he  "wouldn't  hurry 
her.  He  reckoned  she  was  sorter  wore  out  with  her 


00  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE 

trip.  She  could  take  her  breakfast  just  when  she'd  a 
mind  to." 

She  had  heard  him  go  down  the  few  steps  that  led 
from  the  gallery  to  the  yard  and  canter  away  on  old 
Whitey.  Had  she  been  awake  or  dreaming  since  those 
early  morning  sounds  ?  She  was  afraid  she  had  been 
wickedly  self-indulgent  in  that  time.  It  was  no  por- 
tion of  her  intention  to  look  back  now  that  she  had 
put  her  hand  to  the  plow.  She  would  be  ready  for 
breakfast  at  the  usual  hour.  Half-past  seven,  the  old 
woman  who  was  housekeeper  and  cook  and  chamber- 
maid all  in  one — old  Lucy — had  said  was  the  breakfast 
hour  at  Thorndale. 

Do  what  she  would,  Mrs.  Thorn  looked  absurdly 
incongruous  as  she  came  out  of  her  room  at  the  start- 
ling summons  of  a  bell  which  had  been  selected  with  a 
view  to  summoning  the  squire  from  a  distance.  Follow- 
ing the  sound  of  this  bell,  she  found  herself  in  the  long 
back  gallery,  at  one  end  of  which  the  bell-ringer, 
planted  on  the  lower  rail  of  the  banisters,  extended  her 
arm  full  length,  to  send  the  clamorous  summons  as  far 
as  possible.  Mrs.  Thorn  stood  motionless  until  the 
clangor  ceased  and  Aunt  Lucy  climbed  down  from  the 
banisters. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Thorn,  Aunt  Lucy?" 

"  Down  t'  crib,  I  'lows.  He  mos'  genully  sees  t'  put- 
tin'  out  de  feed  hisseff.  He's  a  stirrer,  he  is  !  Fo'  de 
lam',  but  you  is  a  rale  fine  bird,  sho'," 


7'HE  THORNS  A  T  HOME.  67 

Aunt  Lucy  put  the  bell  on  the  lintel  over  the  door, 
and,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  blue  checked  apron,  coolly 
proceeded  to  "  feel  of  "  the  crisp  silk  plaitings  on  Mrs. 
Thorn's  merino  wrapper. 

"  Does  y'  dress  dis  way  ev'y  day  en  Sun'y  too, 
honey?  " 

The  squire's  wife  laughed.  A  laugh  became  her 
admirably. 

"  'Cause  ef  you  does,  thar'll  be  trouble  'twix'  you  en 
him,  chile.  I  gives  you  fa'r  warnin'.  Watch  my 
words,  chile.  He's  a  close  'un,  he  is.  It'll  mouty  nigh 
mek  him  sick  t'  think  uv  you  er  sloshin'  sech  a  coat  es 
thet  out  ev'y  day.  .One  trip  cross  de  mud  t'  de  hen- 
house '11  'bout  finish  dat  coat." 

"Is  breakfast  ready  ?  If  it  is,  bring  it  in."  Mrs. 
Thorn's  voice  was  coldly  authoritative.  This  sudden 
and  stately  assertion  of  authority  on  the  part  of  the 
new  mistress  was  injudicious.  Aunt  Lucy  had  been 
supreme  in  authority  up  to  that  moment.  She  resented 
this  rude  dethronement.  She  turned  away  in  wrath- 
ful silence,  and  Mrs.  Thorn  walked  away  to  examine 
the  front  premises,  in  happy  ignorance  that  she  had 
made  an  implacable  foe  of  her  cook. 

Notwithstanding  their  best  efforts  in  that  line,  the 
Thorns  had  never  succeeded  in  quite  shearing  nature 
of  her  beauty.  As  is  the  fashion  where  land  is  more 
plentiful  than  any  thing  else,  the  front  yard  at  Thorn- 
dale  comprised  several  acres  of  ground,  in  which  grew 


68  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

a  dozen  or  more  grand  old  oaks,  towering  cottonwoods, 
and,  in  spasmodic  recognition  of  the  beautiful,  some 
owner  had  planted  crape-myrtles  profusely  in  the 
spaces  between  the  natural  growth.  These  in  their 
season  beautified  the  premises  with  a  soft  pink  flush 
that  was  a  pleasant  relief  from  the  universal  greenness. 
On  one  side  of  the  premises  was  an  orchard,  where  the 
plum  trees  were  in  full  bloom,  and  the  peach  trees  were 
putting  out  tentative  blossoms.  A  purple  wisteria 
clambered  carelessly  about  a  slim  young  locust  tree  so 
near  the  gallery  that  Mrs.  Thorn  could  stretch  her 
hand  to  where  its  purple  cones  mingled  with  the  white 
clusters  of  the  locust,  in  sweet  confusion. 

A  one-sided  view  of  Thorndale  would  have  given 
either  an  entirely  pleasant  or  unpleasant  impression. 
Turning  from  the  blossom-clouds  out  yonder  in  the 
orchard  and  the  nearer  beauty  of  wisteria  and  locust- 
bloom,  Mrs.  Thorn  faced  immediately  toward  a  rail- 
inclosed  lot  where  twenty  or  thirty  mules  were  stand- 
ing on  either  side  of  a  huge  trough,  taking  their  break- 
fast with  their  work-harness  jangling  about  their  necks 
and  heels.  A  drove  of  hogs  of  all  ages  and  sizes 
struggled  and  grunted  with  reckless  disregard  for  the 
forest  of  hoofs  beneath  which  they  wrangled  for  the 
fallen  grain.  Old  Whitey,  with  his  bridle-bit  swinging 
loose  upon  his  neck,  grazed  about  the  lot,  making  the 
best  of  the  short  respite  between  the  mules'  feeding 
time  and  the  master's.  The  master  himself  was 


THE  THORNS  AT  HOME.  69 

perched  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  maintaining  his 
precarious  position  by  hitching  his  feet  under  a  lower 
rail.  He  was  whittling  and  watching  to  see  that  the 
feed  was  not  stolen  from  his  work-mules  to  sustain  the 
pigs  and  poultry  of  some  "  cussed  free  darkey."  With 
his  hat  pushed  far  back  on  his  head,  he  had  a  keenly 
alert  look  suggestive  of  a  ferret  on  the  lookout  at  a 
rat's  hole.  He  was  not  a  comely  object.  Mrs.  Thorn's 
glance  did  not  rest  peacefully  on  that  side  of  her  new 
home.  She  turned  back  to  the  wisteria,  and  crushed 
a  purple  cluster  in  her  hand  with  a  merciless  gesture. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   MAJOR  AT   HOME. 

WHEN  Mr.  Southmead,  the  evening  before,  had 
brought  his  short  biographical  notice  of  Squire 
Thorn  to  a  close,  he  and  Major  Denny,  with  whom  he 
had  spent  the  afternoon  snipe-hunting,  separated  at 
the  forks  of  the  road  with  that  inevitable  hand-grip 
which  must  be  given,  according  to  the  effusive  cordial- 
ity of  Southerner,  even  where  two  restless  horses  enter 
a  dumb  protest  against  the  uselessness  of  such  gush  by 
putting  sudden  and  inconvenient  space  between  the 
clasped  hands. 

The  major  rode  slowly  homeward  through  the  darken- 
ing woods.  The  horse  he  bestrode  knew  the  road  better 
than  he  did.  It  had  been  a  part  of  his  purchase  when 
he  had  suddenly  concluded  to  make  his  home  on  a 
cotton  plantation.  With  his  hands  clasped  over  the  gun 
that  lay  across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  h-e  whistled 
a  light  tune  in  the  absent-minded  fashion  men  have 
when  their  thoughts  are  busy  with  weightier  things, 
while  their  souls  are  attuned  to  peaceful  harmony. 
Stirling  Denny's  nature  was  essentially  a  healthy  one. 


THE  MAJOR  A  T  HOME.  7 1 

Things  had  not  gone  with  him  just  as  he  had  intended 
they  should  when  he  was  mapping  out  his  campaign 
for  life  in  his  arrogant  youth.  Then  the  world  had 
bee_n  little  more  than  a  pebble  in  a  sling;  since  then  he 
had  come  to  regard  himself  as  the  pebble  and  the 
world  as  the  sling — which  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom. 
Some  contend  that  a  man's  temperament  is  entirely  a 
matter  of  good  digestion,  cheerfulness  and  a  healthy 
liver  being  synonymous  terms.  If  this  be  so,  then  the 
major  did  not  deserve  any  special  credit  for  that  se- 
renity and  cheerful  equilibrium  that  made  him  at  all 
times  so  delightful  a  companion. 

He  was  well  beloved  by  the  people  on  Rossmere.  As 
he  reached  the  big  white  gate  that  opened  from  his 
field  into  the  road  along  the  river  front,  a  trio  of  small 
darkeys  rushed  tumultuously  from  the  nearest  cabin, 
and  six  small  black  hands  clutched  emulously  at.  the 
big  wooden  latch  to  open  the  gate  for  "  Boss."  Which 
term  is  the  universal  compromise  between  ante  bellum 
servility  and  the  formal  requirements  of  freedom. 
"  Massa  "  is  too  obsolete,  and  "  Mr."  too  repellent. 

A  few  yards  more,  and  he  was  at  his  own  gate.  The 
fence  was  in  an  unregenerate  condition.  It  was  as  he 
had  found  it,  not  as  he  intended  it  should  be.  The 
needs  of  the  plantation  are  always  paramount  to  those 
of  the  family.  At  present,  the  major's  family  consisted 
of  himself  alone.  He  never  passed  through  this  rickety 
front  gate  without  picturing  to  himself  the  sort  of  gate 


72  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

he  intended  to  have  when  he  should  have  put  new 
roofs  on  all  the  cabins,  repaired  the  gin  house,  and 
built  a  decent  corn-crib.  He  glanced  toward  the  large 
house,  in  which  he  had  so  much  more  room  than  he 
well  knew  what  to  do  with,  locating  his  imaginary  gate 
on  an  air  line  with  the  big  front  door.  The  bull-bats 
were  circling  low  in  swift  search  for  their  supper  of 
insects.  The  fireflies  glanced  in  and  out  the  dark 
cedar  branches  like  living  sparks.  The  faint  perfume 
of  the  early  hyacinths  left  by  his  predecessors  floated 
in  the  still  air.  It  was  a  peaceful  sort  of  solitude  he 
lived  in,  with  no  room  for  gloom  nor  possibility  of  dis- 
cord. The  white  gleam  of  a  newspaper  flung  on  the 
floor  by  some  one  who  rose  suddenly  from  one  of  the 
large  gallery  chairs  caused  the  major  to  start  in  sur- 
prise. He  had  left  no  one  behind  him  capable  of  read- 
ing a  newspaper,  and  had  extended  no  invitations  for 
visits  from  his  former  associates  at  the  North.  Mr. 
Southmead  was  the  only  white  man  who  had  entered 
those  doors  since  he  had  been  the  owner  of  Rossmere, 
and  him  he  had  just  left  miles  away.  The  reader  had 
discovered  him  in  the  act  of  dismounting,  and  slowly 
descended  the  steps,  as  if  not  quite  certain  of  his  wel- 
come. His  garb  was  somewhat  seedy,  but  his  bearing 
was  that  of  a  gentleman.  While  his  form  was  slighter 
and  his  face  less  strongly  marked  than  the  major's, 
there  was  considerable  likeness  between  the  two  men. 
"  How  are  you,  Stirl?"  He  extended  his  hand  with 


THE  MAJOR  AT  HOME.  73 

a  nervous  attempt  at  ease  as  they  came  together  in  the 
walk. 

"Manton  !  " 

"There's  more  surprise  than  welcome  in  your  voice," 
said  the  major's  uninvited  guest,  with  an  uneasy 
laugh. 

"  It's  an  undoubted  surprise.  I  thought  you  were 
in  Europe.  I  did  not  know  half  a  dozen  people  knew 
of  my  present  location.  How  did  you  discover  it  ?" 

Major  Denny  led  the  way  back  to  the  portico,  his 
guest  by  his  side.  It  was  evident  both  men  were  ill  at 
ease. 

"  You  have  no  reason  to  go  into  hiding,"  said  the 
new-comer,  rather  surlily,  as  they  reached  the  gallery 
and  he  picked  up  the  paper  he  had  thrown  down,  fold- 
ing it  up  with  unnecessary  precision  as  a  sort  of  vent 
for  his  embarrassment. 

"  None,  individually  ;  only,  when  a  man  has  started 
out  in  life  with  big  ideas  of  what  he  is  going  to  do,  and 
finds  himself  about  as  insignificant  as  a  fly  on  an 
ox's  horn,  he  don't  care  to  pose  before  the  world  as  an 
exemplar  or  a  warning  to  posterity;  he  prefers  to  efface 
himself.  Had  any  thing  to  eat  since  you  came?  " 

"  Nothing  since  leaving  the  boat  at  your  landing." 

"Where  are  you  from  immediately?  " 

"  Memphis." 

The  major  disappeared  within  doors.  When  he 
returned,  he  said  in  a  voice  not  yet  entirely  divested 


74  THJt:  NE W  MA N  AT  ROSSMERE, 

of  a  certain  resentful  coldness  :  "  Margaret  will  attend 
to  your  wants.  Will  you  smoke  before  tea  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks  !  You  are  snug  here.  You  always  did 
land  on  your  feet." 

Major  Denny  lighted  a  cigar,  and  puffed  at  it  in 
silence,  if  not  in  serenity.  The  other  man  spoke  again 
presently  in  a  weakly,  complaining  manner: 

"And  I  on  my  back  !  I've  had  a  deuced  hard  time, 
Stirl,  since  I  saw  you  last.  Wall  Street  played  the  very 
mischief  with  me." 

"  Wall  Street  has  a  good  deal  to  answer  for,"  Stirling 
said,  in  a  coldly  unsympathetic  voice. 

"Without  adding  my  sins  to  it,  you  mean  !  You  are 
as  plain-spoken  as  ever.  The  construction  of  your  sen- 
tence is  skillful." 

"When  did  you  return  from  Europe?" 

"  I  have  been  back  a  year." 

"A  year!  Do  you  regard  coming  back  at  all  a  sen- 
sible or  a  safe  thing  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  since 
your  return  ?  " 

"  Nothing."  He  contented  himself  with  answering 
the  last  question  only. 

"  H'm  !     Do  you  find  it  profitable  ?  " 

"Do  I  look  as  if  I  did?  I'm  as  seedy  as  a  beggar. 
You  are  dressed  like  a  gentleman.  But  you  always  did 
have  the  luck  of  it." 

"  What  are  your  plans  for  the  future  ?  You  know  I 
don't  believe  in  luck." 


THE  MAJOR  A  T  HOME.  75 

"Plans?  I  can't  say  that  I.  have  any  beyond  my 
present  intention  of  paying  my  brother  Major  Stirling 
Denny  a  good  long  visit." 

"  A  little  cool,  aren't  you  ?  " 

The  major  laughed  in  a  mirthless  sort  of  way. 

"  No — simply  desperate.  You  won't  drive  me  away, 
Stirling.  I  know  you  are  not  glad  to  see  me.  I  did 
not  expect  you  would  be.  Nobody  ever  is.  But  you'll 
not  drive  me  away,  I'm  sure  of  that.  For  mother's 
sake  you  will  let  me  stay." 

He  had  touched  the  right  chord. 

"  Poor,  dear  mother  !  " 

Stirling  Denny's  voice  softened  over  the  words  ;  then, 
rising  suddenly,  he  went  and  stood  over  the  brother 
whom  he  had  not  seen  for  fifteen  years,  whom  he  had 
never  desired  to  see  again  ;  for,  as  far  back  as  memory 
went,  Manton  Denny  had  been  a  source  of  sorrow  and 
trouble  to  every  one  connected  with  him  ;  and  it  had 
only  been  through  the  major's  own  individual  efforts 
that  the  name  of  Denny  had  been  rescued  from  down- 
right  disgrace.  He  had  given  up  his  entire  patrimony 
and  a  large  share  of  his  earnings  as  a  lawyer  to  clear 
Manton  from  the  peril  of  exposure  in  a  very  scandalous 
transaction,  and  had  breathed  freely  only  when  he  had 
put  the  ocean  between  himself  and  the  brother  who  was 
a  source  of  anxiety  and  nothing  more.  Indeed,  it  was 
Manton's  fault  that  he  was  now  an  obscure  cotton 
planter,  making  the  best  of  a  dismal  necessity,  rather 


76  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

than  a  lawyer  at  the  brilliant  bar  of  New  York  City. 
The  name  of  Denny  had  been  smirched  there  by  his 
brother,  and  the  entire  place  grew  unendurable  by  con- 
sequence. He  had  looked  forward  to  an  aftermath  of 
peace  and  comfort  in  this  obscure  corner  of  the  earth, 
which  might,  perhaps,  compensate  him,  in  a  measure, 
for  the  brilliant  prospects  he  had  been  compelled  to 
yield  up.  As  he  looked  down  now  upon  Manton,  vigor- 
ous, handsome,  youthful,  he  wondered  that  so  fair  a 
seeming  should  have  so  little  support  from  moral  sense 
or  moral  courage.  Something  had  always  been  lacking 
to  this  brother  of  his.  He  dared  not  hope  that  time 
had  supplied  that  something. 

"  Manton,"  he  said,  with  a  sternness  that  became  his 
strong  physique  better  than  smiles,  "  you  have  asked 
a  great  favor  of  me  for  our  mother's  sake.  I  do  not 
want  you  here.  I  came  here  to  be  at  peace.  I  can  not 
say  yet  that  I  will  consent  to  your  making  this  your 
permanent  home.  I  sound  ungracious.  I  feel  so.  I 
can  not  entirely  forget  what  you  have  made  me  suffer. 
Here  there  will  be  absolutely  no  opportunity  for  the 
exercise  of  your  evil  proclivities.  That  your  proclivi- 
ties are  still  evil  your  penniless  condition  betrays.  If 
you  stay  with  me,  I  shall  expect  you  to  assume  certain 
duties,  and  to  perform  them.  You  have  asked  me  in 
our  mother's  name  to  receive  you.  How  often  have  I, 
in  the  wretched  past,  pleaded  vainly  with  you  in  her 
dear  name — " 


THE  MAJOR  A  T  HOME.  77 

"  Curse  it  all !"  Manton  broke  in,  wrathfully.  "If 
you  have  turned  preacher,  tell  me  so,  and  let  me  move 
on.  I  don't  care  to  be  impaled  on  a  fresh  pin  at  every 
turn.  I've  come  here  for  a  rest.  I  doubt  very  much  if 
I  could  exist  among  your  bats  and  frogs  very  long.  I 
don't  feel  altogether  like  an  interloper.  I  suppose  I 
have  some  right  here.  I  take  it  for  granted  you  bought 
this  place  with  father's  money." 

"  You  take  too  much  for  granted.  Every  cent  of  our 
father's  money  went  to  keep  you  out  of — "  Stirling 
stopped,  sighed,  and  added  :  "  This  is  my  home,  Man- 
ton.  You  shall  remain  a  guest  in  it  so  long — " 

"  As  I  behave  myself,"  the  other  said,  with  a  mirth- 
less laugh.  "  You  have  not  forgotten  your  old 
trick  of  pressing  down  the  links  into  the  festering 
flesh." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  press  down  the  links.  I  only 
wish  I  could  honestly  make  you  cordially  welcome.  I 
simply  wished  we  should  understand  each  other  at  the 
outset." 

He  stepped  down  into  the  yard,  lighted  a  fresh  cigar, 
and  walked  out  through  the  gate  to  the  river  bank, 
where  Manton  could  trace  his  restless  promenade  by 
the  red  gleam  of  his  cigar.  Presently  he  too  got  up 
and  joined  his  brother  in  his  walk. 

"Stirl,"he  said,  and  his  voice  was  husky,  "if  you'd 
rather  not  have  me,  I'll  go  again.  You  know  I'm  not 
a  Denny  now.  I'm  a  Craycraft.  I  shipped  for  home 


78  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

as  Manton  Craycraft.     Nobody  will  know  me  for  your 
brother,  but — ' 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Stirling  Denny  derived 
a  sort  of  satisfaction  from  deception.  The  deception 
was  another's,  but  it  was  necessary. 

"  Stay,"  he  said  ;  "  no  doubt  you  are  safer  here  than 
anywhere  else  in  the  United  States.  But,  by  the  eter- 
nal, Manton  Denny— 

"  Craycraft !  "  Manton  corrects  him  calmly. 

"  If  you  commit  any  fresh  act  of — " 

"Villainy!  Put  it  strong." 

"  Although  the  same  mother  bore  us,  and  I  revere 
her  memory  as  that  of  a  saint,  I  will — " 

"  Do  what?" 

Manton's  well  assumed  contrition  had  fled  at  the 
first  sign  of  concession  on  his  brother's  part.  He 
placidly  seated  himself  on  a  pile  of  cotton-seed  sacks, 
and  fell  to  flinging  clods  of  dirt  far  out  into  the  swift 
rushing  current  of  the  river.  He  started  as  Stirling's 
hand  fell  heavily  on  his  shoulder: 

"You  had  best  go  into  your  supper  now;  we  can 
talk  together  better  to-morrow.  I  am  sorry  I  could  not 
feel  more  glad  to  see  you." 

Manton  rose  and  stretched  himself  leisurely. 
"  Leave  out  the  gush !     I'm  not   exacting.     Good- 
night.    You're  certainly  landed    on  your   feet    here. 
Pretty  place.     You  always  were  the  lucky  one." 

Repenting  of  the  discourtesy  he  had  put  upon  this 


THE  MAJOR  A  T  HOME.  79 

most  unwelcome  prodigal  by  sending  him  into  a  soli- 
tary supper,  the  major  threw  away  his  cigar  presently 
and  followed  his  brother  into  the  house. 

"  How   are  you   getting  on?  "  he  asked,  taking  his 
own  place  at  the  table. 

"  Moderately  well.     Your  cook  is  not  a  cordon  bleu- 
By  the  way,  how  are  you  off  for  neighbors  ?  " 

"  There  are  a  few  other  white  people  living  in  the 
county." 

"  How  near  are  the  nearest  ?  " 

"  Within  six  miles  of  me." 

"  Oppressively  close.     What's  the  name?" 

"  Southmead." 

"And  your  next  ?" 

"  The  Thorn  place  ;  thirteen  miles  off." 

"  Thorn  !  that  must  be  the  old  fellow  to  whom  I  am 
indebted  for  your  address.  I  heard  in  New  York  you 
had  bought  a  plantation  in  Arkansas.  I  was  in  the 
mountains  of  Virginia  this  summer,  well — hiding,  let's 
call  it — and  there  was  a  gray  old  curmudgeon  stopped 
there ;  when  I  found  he  was  from  Arkansas,  I  ques- 
tioned him  about  you.  He  don't  love  you." 

"  No?     I  don't  think  we  have  ever  met." 

"  He's  one  of  the  unreconstructed.  He  was  accounted 
rich,  but  confoundedly  crusty  and  disagreeable." 

"The  same  man,  in  all  probability." 

"  This  old  man  was  trying  to  get  married  when  I 
left  the  mountains," 


8o  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  He  succeeded  before  he  left  there.  He  brought  a 
wife  home  to-day." 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ? "  Manton  asked,  with  vivid 
interest  in  his  voice. 

"  No,  but  she  is  said  to  be  young  and  handsome." 
"  Poor  thing!     She  came  to  it  I  suppose  !  " 
"  You  knew  this  lady,  then  ?  "  Major  Denny  asked, 
quickly,  always  on  the  alert  for  something  underhand 
in  his  brother's  actions. 

"  Yes,  as  one  boarding  in  a  lodging-house  knows  an- 
other. There  was  a  pitiful  story  afloat  when  I  first  went 
to  this  place,  about  this  Miss  Agnes  Murray,  if  she  is 
the  present  Mrs.  Thorn.  She  was  a  teacher  burdened 
with  the  support  and  education  of  a  young  brother. 
The  lad  was  with  her  for  vacation,  and  the  story  went 
that  he  had  gotten  into  a  devil  of  a  mess  with  a  lot  of 
gamblers  and  moonshiners,  and  that  old  Thorn  had 
paid  him  out  of  it,  and  agreed  to  send  the  boy  to  col- 
lege, on  condition  of  the  sister's  marrying  him.  I 
suppose  she  made  the  sacrifice.  But,"  he  added,  with 
unnecessary  energy,  "  all  that  happened  before  I  got 
there."  Then  he  pushed  his  chair  back,  and  walked 
back  to  the  front  gallery. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"INDUCTED   INTO   OFFICE." 

' '  A  ND  now,  Mrs.  Thorn,  my  love,  I  arranged  mat- 
f\  ters  before  breakfast  so  that  I  should  be  able  to 
devote  the  whole  of  this  first  morning  to  introducing 
you  to  your  new  home,  your  domestic  cabinet,  and  your 
responsibilities  as  a  planter's  wife  ;  inducting  you  into 
office,  as  it  were." 

With  these  words  Squire  Thorn  pushed  his  chair 
noisily  back  from  the  breakfast-table,  the  four  legs  of  it 
grating  harshly  upon  the  bare  floor  and  upon  Mrs. 
Thorn's  quivering  nerves,  drew  his  pocket  handker- 
chief across  the  wiry  mustache  whose  appearance  had 
not  been  improved  by  a  copious  draught  of  buttermilk, 
stuffed  it  into  the  side  pocket  of  his  jeans  coat,  and, 
with  both  hands  spread  upon  the  table,  one  on  either 
side  of  his  plate,  waited  for  his  wife  to  rise  in  response 
to  this  broad  hint. 

Mrs.  Thorn  raised  to  her  lips  the  cup  of  muddy  cof- 
fee she  had  been  doctoring  all  through  the  meal,  and 
drained  its  contents  with  the  sudden  heroism  one  brings 
to  bear  on  an  unavoidable  dose,  then  said,  in  her  slow, 
even  voice: 


82  THE  NL  W  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"  Very  well,  sir  ;  I  am  ready." 

A  finer  intelligence  than  Squire  Thorn's  might  have 
found  something  to  resent  in  the  air  of  passive  endurance 
that  had  already  become  habitual  with  his  wife.  But 
to  him  it  was  the  perfection  of  wifely  bearing.  He 
never  had  asked  any  thing  on  a  sentimental  basis  from 
her.  "  I  had  my  reasons  for  askin',  and  she  had  hers 
for  sayin'  yes,"  was  his  frequent  mental  reminder.  "  So 
I  guess  we're  about  quits.  And  we'll  get  along  about 
as  well  as  the  majority."  With  this  feeling  strong 
upon  him,  it  was  not  likely  the  squire  would  expend 
any  superfluous  pity  upon  her,  even  when  he  found  that 
the  absolute  roughness  of  her  home  surroundings  was 
a  jarring  surprise  to  her.  Nor  did  she  demand  it. 

Away  from  the  plantation,  dressed  in  the  garb  he 
kept  so  exclusively  for  the  benefit  of  society,  shaven  by 
a  barber  who  had  some  regard  for  his  own  reputation 
as  an  artist,  and  withal  invested  with  a  certain  softness 
of  manner  and  speech  that  comes  to  us  all  when  we 
leave  behind  the  sordid  anxieties  of  our  workaday 
life,  the  squire  had  readily  passed  muster  as  an  elderly 
gentleman,  rather  brusque  in  his  manne'r,  but  no  doubt 
all  right  at  heart.  And  when,  in  the  sharpest  agony  of 
her  life,  when  the  boy  for  whose  career  in  life  she  was 
making  every  sacrifice,  had  sent  for  her  to  his  prison- 
house  in  the  little  county  seat,  and  told  her  of  this  one 
way  of  escape  for  him,  what  could  she  do  but  lift  the 
burden  of  his  ill-doing  from  the  boy's  shoulders  and 


"INDUCTED  INTO  OFFICE"  83 

lay  it  as  a  heavy  yoke  about  her  own  ?  Ah,  well !  it 
was  all  well  with  the  boy  now,  and — irrevocable  with 
herself. 

She  followed  her  husband  from  the  house  into  the 
yard,  dumbly  acquiescent,  holding  her  trailing  wrap- 
per carefully  above  the  mud.  "  It  is  a  great  mistake," 
says  the  squire,  with  some  difficulty  regulating  his  own 
shambling  shuffle  to  the  stately,  even  footfall  of  his  wife, 
"  to  suppose  a  planter's  wife  has  an  easy  time  of  it  now 
because  she  don't  have  to  do  for  and  look  after  slaves 
that  stand  for  so  much  money.  I  won't  be  so  ungener- 
ous as  to  deny,  Mrs.  Thorn,  that  you've  got  a  tolerably 
hard  row  to  hoe.  Yes,  you've  got  that  very  thing;  but 
you  married  me  with  your  eyes  open.  I  suppose  you'd 
gone  purty  nigh  through  the  woods  and  I  was  your 
crooked  stick,  but  I'll  promise  to  be  as  good  a  stick  for 
you  to  lean  on  as  is  in  me  to  be.  That's  fair  !  I'm  sure 
a  man  couldn't  say  nothing  fairer.  I  hope  we'll  fall 
together  easy.  Every  new  team's  got  to  get  used  to 
each  other's  paces  and  to  the  harness.  Yes,  to  the  har- 
ness, my  dear." 

Mrs.  Thorn  was  conscious  that  the  harness  chafed 
fiercely  at  that  moment.  Would  she  ever  get  quite 
used  to  it  ? 

"Let  us  look  at  the  garden,  please.  You  spoke  of 
one  at  the  breakfast-table." 

The  squire  emitted  a  sound  that  might  pass  for  a 
laugh  if  one  were  previously  bent  on  so  considering  it, 


84  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

and  shambled  across  the  weed-choked  yard  to  where 
a  picket  fence  inclosed  another  rank  growth  of 
the  "bitter  weed,"  "Jamestown  weed,"  and  "wild 
coffee." 

"  It's  sceercely  worth  while  goin'  inside,"  he  said, 
after  tugging  vainly  at  the  big  gate,  which,  hanging  by 
one  rusty  hinge,  had  sagged  so  that  it  was  unmovable 
'by  his  enfeebled  hands.  "You  can  see  all  there  is  to 
be  seen  from  the  outside  ; "  and,  assuming  an  easy 
posture  by  planting  both  elbows  on  the  pointed 
pickets,  supporting  his  chin  in  his  hands  the  while,  he 
went  into  particulars.  "That's  about  one  acre  of  as 
good  ground  inside  of  that  picket  fence,  Mrs.  Thorn, 
as  you'll  find  anywhere  in  the  state  of  Arkansas.  It 
looks  a  little  roughish  now,  for  things  have  gone 
tolerable  slack  about  the  yard  premises  for  a  good  bit 
back,  but  you  can  soon  make  it  blossom  like  a  rose  if 
you'll  just  settle  square  down  to  work  at  it.  Visitors 
won't  interrupt  you  much.  Folks  have  got  something 
better  to  do  in  this  country  than  to  gad  from  one 
year's  end  to  'nother.  A  Yankee  'd  make  a  good 
living  off  that  piece  of  ground.  You  see  it's  handy  to 
the  mule  lot,  there,  where  the  manure  comes  from  to 
enrich  your  potato  ground.  I  shan't  pester  you  in 
your  department.  Some  men  want  to  boss  every  thing 
around  them.  That  ain't  me,  Mrs.  Thorn.  I'll  give 
you  Jim  Doakes — he's  the  best  nigger  in  the  land  of 
Dixie,  if  he  is  free ;  and  Pete— Pete's  as  good  for  a 


"INDUCTED  INTO  OFFICE:'  85 

mule  as  Jim  is  for  a  nigger;  and  a  box  of  garden  seed, 
and  a  barrel  of  potatoes,  and  turn  you  loose  to  amuse 
yourself.  Amusements  of  any  other  sort  than  your 
own  making  you'll  find  scarcer  than  hens'  teeth.  It's 
a  leetle  late  for  breaking  up  ground,  but  then  we  didn't 
take  spring  gardenin'  into  'count  when  we  fixed  our 
weddin'  day,  so  we'll  have  to  eat  our  vegetables  when 
we  can  get  them  this  year.  You'll  find  Jim  has  got  a 
purty  good  ideeya  of  gardenin'  himself,  and  when  you 
both  get  stumped  you  can  turn  for  help  to  '  White's 
Gardenin'  for  the  South.'  It's  somewheres  in  the 
house.  I  don't  take  much  stock  in  book  gardenin' 
myself,  but  I  suppose  you  might  get  a  hint  or  two  out 
of  it." 

Agnes  looked  with  despairing  eyes  at  the  luxuriant 
crop  of  weeds  that  flaunted  their  heads  so  much  higher 
than  her  own.  When  she  thought  of  the  amount  of 
labor  that  must  supervene  between  their  fall  and  the 
rise  of  green  pease  and  radishes,  she  shrank  dismayed 
at  the  responsibility  of  making  that  dreary  spot 
blossom  like  the  rose. 

"It  looks  desperately  little  like  a  garden  now,"  she 
said,  impelled  to  speech  by  her  husband's  prolonged 
pause. 

"  It  ain't  much  to  look  at  now,  for  a  fact,  but  you 
and  Jim  and  Pete  can  soon  improve  matters." 

Mrs.  Thorn  began  to  realize  that  she  was  a  part  of 
the  squire's  "working  force.  He  removed  his  elbows 


86  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

from  the  pickets,  rubbed  them  a  little,  and  turned  in 
another  direction,  saying : 

"  Now  I'll  show  you  your  hen-house.  We  ain't  got 
nothing  in  the  way  of  fancy  stock  on  hand  at  present, 
but  if  you've  a  mind  to  try  your  hand  on  Braymers  or 
Legerns,  I'm  not  the  man  for  snubbin'  a  woman  for 
having  ideeyas  of  her  own." 

This  magnanimous  concession  made,  he  took  a  key 
from  his  pocket,  inserted  it  in  the  rusty  padlock,  and 
unlocked  the  low  door  to  the  little  shanty  that  was 
dignified  with  the  name  of  hen-house.  He  held  the 
door  open  for  her  to  precede  him.  She  glanced  in, 
and  drew  back  dismayed. 

"You  see,"  the  squire  resumed,  volubly,  bent  upon 
squelching  the  too  evident  daintiness  of  his  wife,  "  if 
you  want  vegetables  on  a  plantation,  you've  got  to 
raise  'em.  If  you  want  butter,  you've  got  to  churn  it. 
If  you  want  eggs,  you've  got  to  see  that  the  hens  lay' 
'em.  I  always  keep  the  hen-house  locked,  Mrs.  Thorn," 
he  added,  in  a  low,  admonitory  voice ;  "if  I  didn't, 
more  of  my  chickens  and  eggs  would  be  traded  off  for 
whisky  and  tobacker  at  that  pesky  tradin*  boat  in  the 
Lake  than  I'd  ever  get  the  sight  of.  It  would  all  be 
laid  to  the  minks  and  the  crows,  but  the  minks  and 
crows  that  bothers  you  worst  here  ain't  got  but  two 
legs  !  There's  considerable  art  in  tendin'  poultry.  It'll 
come  a  little  hard  at  first,  but  you'll  find  that  what  old 
Lottie  don't  know  about  raisin'  chickins  ain't  worth 


"INDUCTED  INTO  OFFICE."  87 

knowing.  Old  Lottie's  got  the  assmer,  and  she  don't 
do  any  thing  but  gasp  for  breath  about  two-thirds  of 
the  time,  but  the  other  third  I  generally  make  her  put 
in  cleaning  up  the  hen-house  and  putting  fresh  straw 
in  the  nests,  and  do  all  she  can  to  pay  for  her  keep. 
Clean  lodgin's,  plenty  of  fresh  water,  and  corn-meal 
dough  with  a  sprinklin*  of  black  pepper  in  it,  is  the 
fundymental  principles  of  success  in  raising  poultry, 
Mrs.  Thorn.  Why,  a  Yankee  woman  would  raise 
enough  chickens,  geese,  ducks  and  turkeys  in  this  yard 
to  keep  her  in  clover  all  her  days.  By  the  way,  my 
dear,  the  goose  feathers  are  always  to  be  saved.  They 
fetch  a  good  market  price  always,  but  if  you  don't 
watch  'em  when  they're  pluckin'  'em,  you  won't  get 
more  than  half  what  belongs  to  you.  Oh,  I  tell  you, 
you'll  have  to  have  eyes  in  the  back  of  your  head  if 
you  hope  to  hold  your  own  here." 

The  squire  gave  a  last  comprehensive  look  around 
the  interior  of  the  shackling  shed,  carefully  relocked 
the  rusty  padlock,  and  handed  the  key  to  his  wife  with 
the  air  of  an  out-going  minister  of  state.  Agnes 
dropped  the  little  iron  key  into  the  depths  of  her 
silken  pocket,  and  mentally  pronounced  the  garden 
plus  the  poultry-house  a  brambly  Ossa  piled  on  an 
abominable  Pelion. 

"I  hope  I  shall  grow  fond  of  it  all,"  she  said,  daintily 
gathering  her  skirts  about  her,  until  her  little  high- 
heeled  slippers  and  striped  blue  stockings  came  ravish- 


88  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ingly  into  view.  But  her  voice  had  very  little  hope 
in  it. 

"You're  bound  to  be  fond  of  something,"  Squire 
Thorn  answered,  looking  down  rather  unappreciatively 
at  this  display  of  pretty  feet  and  stylish  hosiery,  "  and 
I  reckon  chickens  is  about  as  safe  company  as  you  can 
keep.  Leastways  they  ain't  going  to  backbite  you, 
nor  lie  on  you.  I  wouldn't  wear  them  paper-soled 
things  out  in  the  yard,  if  I  was  you.  First  time  I  go 
out  to  Landing,  I'll  see  if  I  can't  find  you  a  good  stout 
pair  of  shoes.  Things  ain't  lively  round  here,  Mrs. 
Thorn,  I  forewarn  you." 

Agnes  thought  the  forewarning  came  rather  late,  but 
she  only  said,  with  a  slightly  wearied  voice : 

"  I  suppose  we  are  through  now,  aren't  we  ?  " 

"  Well !  I  can't  say  as  we  are,  but  as  the  calf-pen's 
on  the  road  back  to  the  house,  'twon't  consume  much 
more  time  to  step  around  that  way.  We'll  leave  the 
pig-pen  (I  always  keep  up  two  pigs  to  feed  the  kitchen 
slops  to)  and  the  smoke-house  for  after  dinner.  I 
reckon,  maybe,  you'd  like  to  unpack  your  trunks  to-day. 
I  hope  you've  got  some  commoner  duds  than  them," 
glancing  askance  at  the  soft  merino  wrapper  with  its 
silken  trimmings  ;  "  they  won't  stand  the  mornin'  dew 
long.  We're  early  movers  here,  Mrs.  Thorn.  Early 
to  bed  and  early  to  rise — you  know  the  rest — that's  my 
motto.  Now  here,"  coming  to  a  sudden  halt  under 
the  low  spreading  branches  of  a  beautiful  pecan,  "  is 


"INDUCTED  INTO  OFFICE."  89 

your  calf-pen.  You'll  have  to  keep  your  eyes  skinned 
about  them  calves,"  pointing  to  three  innocent-looking 
animals,  who  gazed  at  them  deprecatingly  with  big 
soft  eyes. 

"  The  rails  of  this  calf-pen  air  rather  rottin',  there's  no 
denyin',  and  that  bull  calf  yonder — he's  a  yearlin',  for 
all  his  innocent  looks  now — is  a-gettin'  to  be  tolerable 
handy  with  his  sproutin'  horns.  He  butts  them  rails 
down  every  day  or  two,  and  there's  a  everlastin'  cry  of 
'  cows  and  calves  got  together,  no  milk  this  morning.' 
Of  course,  when  I  was  here  by  myself,  some  things  was 
bound  to  be  neglected,  because  I  couldn't  be  in  but  one 
place  at  a  time  ;  but  now,  with  you  on  hand,  and  Isham 
at  your  beck  and  call — Isham's  Jim's  son,  but  a  blameder 
little  rapscallion  never  went  unhung — there'll  be  no 
excuse  for  the  calves  and  cows  gettin'  together.  You'll 
have  to  keep  a  pretty  sharp  lookout  on  Isham  as  well 
as  the  calves,  my  dear ;  it's  hard  to  tell  which  is  the 
slickest  when  it  comes  to  rascality.  But  forewarned 
forearmed,  you  know." 

"Would  not  a  new  pen  obviate  the  trouble  more 
easily?  "  she  ventured  to  ask. 

"  Most  likely  it  would,"  said  the  squire,  who  never 
took  dictation  amiably,  "but  when  a  man's  got  five  or 
six  miles  of  fencing  to  keep  up  round  his  cotton-field, 
he  can't  turn  the  whole  force  loose  to  work  on  a 
calf-pen." 

Mrs.  Thorn  was   silenced  if  not  convinced  by  this 


go  THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

view  of  the  question,  and  simply  said  "Yes,"  a  trifle 
inconsequently.  She  wondered  if  Atlas  felt  his  burden 
more  than  she  was  afraid  she  was  going  to  feel  hers ! 
The  squire  pulled  a  large  silver  watch  from  his  vest 
pocket. 

"  Time  for  the  smoke-house  yet,"  he  declared,  cheer- 
fully, "or  the  milk-room,  just  as  you  prefer.  It  is  a 
quarter  to  twelve  that  I've  got  to  leave.  I  always  see 
to  the  mule-feed  myself.  By  the  way,  Mrs.  Thorn,  I 
put  the  plantation  bell  handy  to  the  house,  so  that 
when  I  was  out  of  the  way  whoever  was  in  the  house 
could  ring  the  bell  just  exactly  when  the  clock  in  our 
room  strikes  twelve.  Old  Lucy  has  been  attending  to 
it,  but  it  won't  be  worth  while  now,  with  you  right 
there  to  hand.  It's  just  a  reach  over  the  back  banisters, 
and  a  grab  at  the  rope,  and  a  half-dozen  pulls — good 
strong  pulls,  my  dear,  for  sometimes  I'm  way  at  the 
other  end  of  the  field,  and  mightn't  hear  a  feeble  ring. 
I  am  very  particular  about  having  it  rung  on  time. 
After  a  little  you'll  be  surprised  to  find  how  it  reminds 
you,  sorter  of  itself,  that  twelve  o'clock  has  come.  You 
see,  in  the  country  here  we've  got  to  fall  into  routine — 
there's  nothing  else  to  fall  into,  and  I'm  not  sure  I'm 
sorry.  There's  nothing  like  system  in  all  things, 
Mrs.  Thorn.  You've  noticed  the  bell-post,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

Agnes  felt  viciously  inclined   to    ask  him  how  she 
could  have  failed  to  notice  the  brazen  source  of  the 


• '  IND  UC  TED  IN  TO  OFFICE. "  9 1 

uproar  that  had  broken  up  her  own  morning  slumber 
and  set  half  a  dozen  dogs  to  howling  dismally,  but  she 
only  said : 

"Yes;  I  know  where  it  is.     I  will  remember." 

They  walked  back  to  the  house,  the  squire  dilating 
upon  the  pleasures  and  dignity  of  a  well-filled  home  life 
— Agnes  inwardly  praying  that  her  sacrificial  act  might 
not  tend  to  wither  all  that  was  fresh  and  sweet  in  her 
own  nature. 

"  It's  just  next  to  impossible,"  she  came  back  from  a 
sudden  flight  into  the  past  to  hear  her  husband  say,  "  to 
pick  up  all  the  threads  you've  got  to  weave  into  one 
web,  like  as  it  was,  all  in  a  minute,  Mrs.  Thorn.  But 
I  can  say  one  thing — and  L  ain't  the  man  to  begrudge 
any  body  their  fair  earnings — if  you  do  your  duty  as  a 
planter's  wife  in  these  u-nregenerate  days  of  free  nig- 
gers, carpet-baggers,  and  reconstruction,  you'll  be  en- 
titled to  a  crown  of  righteousness  in  the  next  world, 
whether  you  get  it  or  not ;  and  I  ain't  going  to  belittle 
your  efforts." 

"  And  meanwhile  wearing  a  crown  of  thorns  in  this 
one." 

Mrs.  Thorn's  supplement  was  delivered  safely,  for 
the  squire  had,  with  a  sudden  ejaculation,  left  her  hur- 
riedly, and,  with  much  ado  of  flinging  brickbats  and 
encouraging  of  dogs,  was  in  hot  pursuit  of  a  sow  and  her 
infantile  brood,  who  were  complacently  rooting  for  the 
tender  herbs  in  the  grassy  front  yard. 


92  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

She  saw  nothing  more  of  him  until,  punctually  as 
the  harsh-voiced  clock  on  her  mantle  shelf  struck 
twelve,  she  glanced  out  the  window  and  saw  him  sway- 
ing vigorously  to  and  fro  at  the  end  of  the  big  bell's 
rope,  clamorously  announcing  twelve  o'clock,  to  the 
howling  accompaniment  of  five  pensive  hounds. 

She  bent  once  more  over  the  trunk  she  was  unpack- 
ing. A  scroll  lay  under  her  hand  in  the  tray — the 
scroll  of  daily  mottoes  that  always  hung  in  her  bed- 
room. She  shook  it  out  from  the  creases  that  had 
formed  in  it,  and  hung  it  against  the  wall.  The  words 
that  faced  her  were  taken  from  the  ninth  chapter  of 
Luke,  sixty-second  verse: 

"  No  man,  having  put  his  hand  to  the  plow,  and  look- 
ing back,  is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of  God." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PERIODIC  PERTURBATION. 

HHHERE  are  certain  primitive  customs  and  inconven- 
iently patriarchal  ways  of  "getting  along"  in 
most  of  the  agricultural  districts  of  the  South,  which 
fill  visitors  from  more  advanced  sections  of  this 
progressive  land  with  amazement.  People  to  whom 
the  railroad  and  the  telegraph  are  daily  necessities, 
marvel  how  other  people,  claiming  like  mental  organ- 
ism, can  exist  under  such  stagnant  conditions. 

The  commercial  center  of  the  locality  with  which 
these  annals  of  a  quiet  neighborhood  have  to  do,  was 
what  in  the  North  would  be  called  a  hamlet,  but  which, 
in  its  own  sparsely  settled  section,  was  accorded  the 
dignity  of  being  called  a  town.  The  town  of  Shady- 
ridge  lay  in  a  straggling  fashion  along  the  immediate 
banks  of  the  river ;  and  as  it  consisted  of  only  three 
stores,  one  dwelling-house,  a  little  new  pen  of  a  cottage 
that  sheltered  the  bachelor  doctor  who  dispensed  drugs 
and  advice  for  the  entire  country,  a  rail  inclosure  to 
receive  cotton  for  shipment  and  preserve  it  from 
marauding  cattle  while  waiting  for  the  packet,  it  did 
not  straggle  very  far. 


94  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  KOSSMERE. 

This  town  was  the  rallying  point  for  all  the  planters, 
freedmen,  and  teams  for  the  space  of  twenty  miles 
around  on  "  packet  day."  The  local  packet  was  the 
steamboat  that  had  the  contract  for  carrying  the  United 
States  mail  between  Vicksburg  and  New  Orleans  ;  in 
consequence  of  which  its  arrival  on  a  certain  morning 
up,  and  down  on  another,  were  the  events  most  sure  of 
any  thing  in  the  future  of  Shadyridge.  Unfortunately 
for  the  morals  of  Shadyridge  and  the  country  around, 
Sunday  was  packet  day ;  and  as  the  mail  boat  was 
always  laden  with  a  lot  of  miscellaneous  freight  for 
the  neighborhood,  and,  moreover,  brought  with  her  the 
very  latest  New  Orleans  papers,  Shadyridge  was  at  its 
liveliest  and  did  its  briskest  business  on  the  day  which, 
in  civilized  communities,  is  considered  sacred  to  rest 
and  to  reflection.  Sunday  had  no  higher  significance 
than  lay  in  its  being  the  packet  day.  But  rest  and 
reflection  are  at  a  discount  where  people  at  best  lead 
but  half-awake  lives;  and,  as  it  was  not  in  reason  that 
men  should  ride  ten  or  twelve  miles  over  villainous 
dirt  roads  fora  letter  or  a  paper  only,  it  was  consid- 
ered quite  the  thing  that  any  outlying  business  matter 
should  be  settled  between  the  planters  and  the  three 
or  four  Hebrew  merchants  who  formed  the  commercial 
element  of  the  country  and  the  entire  resident  popula- 
tion of  Shadyridge. 

A  fleet  of  battered  and  paintless  skiffs,  dug-outs, 
flats,  and  other  small  craft,  always  moored  to  the  ragged, 


PERIODIC  PERTURBA  TION.  95 

brambly  banks  of  the  bayou  that  flanked  the  town  on 
the  south,  where  it  ran  to  contribute  its  cool,  dark 
waters  to  the  muddy  current  of  the  Mississippi ;  a  tall 
levee,  whose  broad  crown  was  rutted  deeply  by  the 
wagon-wheels  that  sought  that  refuge  from  the  impass- 
able mud  of  the  "big  road;"a  cluster  of  native  forest  trees, 
beneath  which  stands  the  long,  rude  horse-rack  whose 
horizontal  top-rail  has  been  chewed  and  gnawed  into 
less  than  half  its  original  dimensions  by  generations 
of  tethered  animals  ;  a  blacksmith's  shop  that  does  its 
briskest  business  in  the  shoeing  line  on  a  Sunday  ;  a  list- 
less, loafing,  impatiently  patient  group  of  white  men 
and  black,  sitting  about  on  the  much-whittled  benches 
that  flank  the  store  galleries,  or  on  the  steps,  or  on  in- 
verted boxes  and  barrels,  smoking,  chewing,  exchang- 
ing crop  items  and  weather  prognostications  while  wait- 
ing for  the  boat ;  a  quickened  move  for  the  river's  brink 
at  first  glimpse  of  her  smoke-stacks  in  the  bend  just 
below ;  an  emulous  rush  on  board  as  soon  as  the  stag- 
ing plank  swings  within  the  possibility  of  an  agile  leap; 
a  quick  demand  for  New  Orleans  papers  and  for  drinks 
at  the  boat's  bar,  which  supplies  choicer  poison  than  is 
to  be  procured  at  the  local  counters,  which  cater  ex- 
clusively to  the  freedmen's  tastes — there  you  have 
Shadyridge,  its  customs  and  its  frequenters,  in  a  nut- 
shell. 

The  periodic  perturbations  which  beset  the  dwellers 
upon  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  River  invest  news 


g6  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  7'  ROSSMERE. 

from  the  outer  world  with  a  vivid  and  painful  interest 
at  certain  seasons  of  the  year.  "What  is  the  river 
doing  ?  "  or,  "  What  is  the  river  going  to  do  this  year  ?  " 
are  the  questions  that  pass  from  mouth  to  mouth  as 
soon  as  the  reign  of  winter  is  past  and  the  ice-gates  are 
open.  The  "  river  column  "  is  the  first  thing  looked 
for  in  the  papers  that,  coming  to  hand  but  once  a  week, 
arc  read  and  loaned  around  until  they  are  ready  to  re- 
solve themselves  into  their  original  pulp.  The  man 
who  has  a  correspondent  in  Cairo  or  a  relative  in  Vicks- 
burg  or  Memphis  is  invested  with  factitious  importance 
as  the  recipient  and  retailer  of  reliable  information 
concerning  the  probabilities  of  this  most  dangerous  of 
streams.  An  admixture  of  feverish  anxiety  and  dull 
apprehension  takes  possession  of  every  breast.  Each 
man  will  tell  his  neighbor,  with  dreary  insistence,  that 
"  One  more  overflow  and  he  will  be  ready  to  give  up  ;" 
but  the  time  when  he  really  can  give  up  never  comes, 
for  the  burden  of  other  lives  is  laid  upon  his  heavily- 
laden  shoulders,  and  he  watches  the  receding  waters 
with  a  satisfaction  bordering  nearly  on  cheerfulness, 
and  gathers  together  the  remnants  of  his  flocks  and 
stock,  and  commences  sowing  when  he  should  be  reap- 
ing, and  is  buoyed  up  by  the  hope  which,  happily, 
springs  eternally  in  the  human  breast,  and  so  on  and 
on  forever  and  forever. 

"  I  think  I  will  ride  into  Shadyridge  this  morning, 
to  meet  the  boat  and  hear  what  the  rivers  are  doing 


PERIODIC  PER  TURBA  TION.  9  7 

above,"  Squire  Thorn  said  to  his  wife  on  the  first  Sun- 
day after  their  home-coming.  "  I  suppose  I  will  have 
to  stand  treat  to  every  fool  I  meet  to-day." 

"Why?"  Mrs.  Thorn  asked,  with  languid  interest  in 
what  she  presumed  must  be  a  curious  local  custom. 

"Because  every  fool  will"  congratulate  me  on  my 
marriage,  and  I'll  have  to  stand  treat  for  every  con- 
gratulation," he  said,  showing  a  set  of  very  yellow  teeth 
in  what  was  meant  for  a  pleasant  smile. 

"Oh!  And  does  custom  demand  that  you  should 
take  something  every  time  you  stand  treat  ?  If  it  does, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  number  of  congratulations 
you  receive  this  morning  will  be  very  limited." 

"  I  never  knew  a  Thorn  yet  to  lose  his  head  on  a 
slight  provocation,  Mrs.  Thorn.  I  hope  you'll  not  find 
it  lonely.  I'm  not  likely  to  be  back  before  three  o'clock. 
That  packet's  pesky  uncertain  in  her  time  of  gettin' 
here.  Reckon  you'd  better  make  old  Lucy  stay  and 
keep  you  company — she's  better  'n  nothing." 

The  squire  gave  this  advice  as  he  took  his  cowhide 
whip  down  from  the  rack  in  the  hall,  and  used  it  as  an 
impromptu  clothes-brush  across  the  dusty  crown  of  the 
soft  black  felt  hat  he  wore  on  Sundays. 

"Thank  you.  I  don't  think  I  shall  be  reduced  to 
that  extremity." 

"  Just  as  you  please,  Maybe  best  not.  She  might 
cut  up  rough  about  being  kept  from  meetin'.  Lucy's 
some  on  religion  since  she's  been  free  to  cut  up  as  she 


98  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

pleases.  Maybe  I'll  find  a  letter  for  you  out  yonder," 
he  called  back  from  the  horse-rack,  a  moment  later, 
where  he  stood  tightening  the  saddle-girth  about  old 
Whitey. 

"  Not  likely,"  his  wife  made  answer,  thinking  bitterly 
that  the  heedless  boy  for  whose  sake  she  had  gone  into 
this  dreary  exile  had  never  been  any  too  attentive 
about  such  matters,  and  there  was  no  one  else  in  all  the 
wide  world  to  write  to  her. 

She  watched  her  husband  shamble  slowly  out  of  sight 
on  old  Whitey,  and  sent  after  him  a  silent  aspiration 
that  the  boat  would  achieve  a  triumph  of  tardiness  on 
this  particular  occasion.  She  folded  her  arms,  and 
paced  slowly  from  end  to  end  of  the  long  gallery.  The 
prospect  of  a  whole  undisturbed  morning  to  herself 
was  enjoyable  in  the  extreme.  The  heavy  morning 
dew  still  lay  in  silvery  patches  on  the  bright  green  grass, 
where  the  shadows  of  the  big  trees  protected  it  from 
the  sun's  rays.  Beyond  the  trees,  with  only  the  pub- 
lic road  and  a  narrow,  sloping  strip  of  bank  intervening 
between  its  waters  and  the  yard  fence,  lay  the  same 
lake  which,  in  its  horse-shoe  curve,  embraced  Tievina, 
Rossmere,  and  half  a  dozen  other  plantations.  Deep, 
broad,  placid,  and  blue,  it  was  a  majestic  feature  in  an 
otherwise  homely  landscape.  A  faint  wind  rumpled  its 
blue  waters  to-day,  and  sent  them  swish-swashing  with 
a  peaceful  murmur  against  the  sandy  banks.  A  freed- 
man,  dressed  in  the  shabby  gentility  which  is  his  near- 


PERIODIC  PERTURBATION.  99 

est  approach  to  the  white  man's  elegance,  would  canter 
slowly  along  the  road  every  now  and  then,  his  lazily 
moving  mule  shuffling  up  little  clouds  of  dust  from 
each  hoof,  as  he  ambled  in  the  direction  the  squire  had 
gone,  or  in  the  opposite  one  toward  the  barn-like 
structure  that  the  squire  had  erected  for  a  meeting- 
house for  his  people.  This  meeting-house  was  one  of 
the  squire's  few  concessions  to  the  spirit  of  the  times. 
In  the  frenzy  for  religious  exercises  that  was  one  of 
the  most  violent  ebullitions  of  the  first  days  of  freedom, 
the  plantation  that  held  out  the  greatest*  inducements 
in  this  line  was  the  one  that  was  surest  of  plenty  of 
"  hands."  The  squire  speculated  in  religion  to  the  ex- 
tent of  building  this  meeting-house  and  resigning  .all 
control  of  it  to  his  people.  It  had  proven  an  excellent 
investment,  for,  notwithstanding  the  inferiority  of  his 
cabins  and  the  hardness  of  his  "  contracts,"  the  squire 
never  lacked  for  laborers.  But  on  this  day  the  men, 
with  their  boorish  attempts  at  elegance,  and  the  women, 
with  their  tawdry  ribbons  and  comical  efforts  at  style, 
flitted  by  Mrs.  Thorn  without  attracting  a  glance, 
though  one  and  all  held  themselves  in  kindly  readiness 
to  return  any  civility  the  tall,  stately  lady  of  Thorndale 
might  cast  toward  them  as  they  passed  her  line  of 
vision. 

All  the  discordant  sights  and  sounds  of  plantation  life 
were  in  abeyance  for  the  time  being.  The  mules  would 
not  take  their  dinner  in  full  view  of  her  bedroom  win- 


100  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

dows  to-day;  they  were  turned  out  of  sight  and  sound 
in  the  lower  pasture  to  pick  up  as  they  might  the  din- 
ner they  could  not  earn  by  honest  toil  on  the  Sunday. 
Their  pensioners,  the  hogs,  had  wandered  away  in 
search  of  a  substitute  for  their  daily  gleanings.  The 
chickens  walked  sedately  about,  with  an  air  of  having 
suspended  business  temporarily,  and  when  the  roosters 
crowed  it  was  with  a  decorous  brevity  and  in  an  apolo- 
getic minor  tone  suitable  to  the  solemn  stillness  that 
pervaded  all  things.  The  big  bell  rope  was  wound 
about  its  post ;  the  hideous  clangor  of  its  brazen  clap- 
per would  not  smite  the  peaceful  air  of  that  Sabbath 
morning.  The  five  responsive  hounds  had  all  followed 
the  squire  out  to  the  landing,  trotting  closely  at  old 
Whitey's  heels  with  down-dropped  heads  and  lolling 
tongues.  There  was  not  a  living  thing  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  house  but  Agnes  and  the  large  yellow  cat 
that  followed  her  up  and  down,  rubbing  its  sleek  sides 
against  her  dress  in  mute  expression  of  sympathy  for  her 
loneliness,  until,  disgusted  at  her  lack  of  appreciation, 
he  sprang  lightly  on  to  the  broad  rail  of  the  banisters, 
stretched  himself  luxuriously,  and  blinked  lazily  in  the 
warm  sunshine.  The  serenity  of  the  morning  met  with 
Dick's  entire  approval.  He  only  wished  the  mistress 
to  whom  he  was  sincerely  attached  would  take  things 
more  restfully — bask,  as  it  were,  as  he  was  content  to 
do.  He  purred  ecstatically  when  Mrs.  Thorn  would 
halt  long  enough  to  pass  a  caressing  hand  leisurely 


PERIODIC  PER  TURBA  TlOff.  I o  I 

down  his  glossy  back.  A  mocking-bird  alighted  in  the 
locust  tree  near  the  gallery ;  then,  emboldened  by  the 
universal  hush,  hopped  intrepidly  down  upon  the  banis- 
ters. Dick  eyed  him  malevolently.  Startled  and 
offended,  the  spunky  little  songster  gave  a  shrill 
"  tcheep  !  "  and  flew  out  of  sight.  A  bright-plumaged 
woodpecker  winged  its  way  from  the  gate-post  to  the 
worm-eaten  shingle  roof  of  the  house,  and  the  sound 
of  his  reckless  Sabbath-breaking  came  loud  and  clear 
through  the  unceiled  space  overhead.  Uncle  Mose,  a 
wooden-legged  veteran  of  the  Civil  War,  who  was  liv- 
ing on  county  scrip  and  in  hopes  of  bounty  money 
from  "guv'ment,"  was  contentedly  outraging  the  relig- 
ious sense  of  the  neighborhood  by  fishing  for  "ghyar- 
fish  "  from  the  stern  of  his  leaky  skiff,  that  swayed 
gently  to  and  fro  on  the  softly  heaving  bosom  of  the 
lake  ;  the  chain  that  kept  it  within  prescribed  limits 
clanking  monotonously  against  the  stake  in  the  bank. 
A  myriad  of  white  gulls  were  skimming  midway 
between  the  blue  sky  above  and  the  blue  waters 
beneath.  Occasionally  one  would  dart  with  swift 
energy  waterward,  and  dive  into  the  rumpled,  glitter- 
ing depths  of  the  lake,  to  return  almost  instantane- 
ously with  a  fish,  and  skim  the  air  close  over  Uncle 
Mose's  tattered  hat-brim,  as  if  to  taunt  him  with  the 
unsuccess  of  his  patient,  clumsy  human  efforts.  A  red- 
and-white  spotted  cow  had  waded  far  out  into  the  lake, 
and  stood  body-deep,  placidly  munching  the  tender 


102  THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

shoots  of  a  button-willow  that  rested  its  green  arms 
upon  the  water.  Agnes  was  conscious  of  wishing  that 
this  soundless  serenity  might  last  forever.  She  won- 
dered if  it  was  her  duty  to  turn  away  from  this  pleas- 
ant picture  of  still  life  and  immure  herself  in  the  ugly 
sitting-room  indoors  for  devotional  purposes!  Habit 
voted  in  favor  of  the  lessons  for  Sunday  in  the  Book 
of  Common  Prayer ;  inclination  declared  the  hour  a 
psalm  within  itself.  She  could  read  her  lessons  later 
in  the  day,  when  the  sun  grew  hotter,  and  the  silvery 
patches  of  the  dew  had  been  scorched  up,  and  the 
sandy  banks  of  the  lake  would  show  dry  and  hot,  and 
— her  husband  should  have  come  back  charged  with 
commonplace  gossip  from  the  landing.  So  she  walked 
on,  with  idly  clasped  hands,  thanking  God  for  this 
peaceful  solitude,  which  at  one  time  of  her  life  she 
would  have  shuddered  at,  as  at  total  annihilation. 

Presently  a  fresh  object  of  interest  glided  into  the 
landscape.  It  was  a  sail-boat ;  a  large,  trim,  freshly 
painted  affair,  with  gleaming  white  sails,  and  gay  pen- 
non fluttering  at  the  masthead.  Its  tiller  was  evi- 
dently handled  by  an  expert.  She  looked  at  it  with 
some  such  feeling  as  stirred  in  Robinson  Crusoe's  breast 
at  first  sight  of  Friday's  footprints  in  the  sand.  It 
looked  entirely  too  civilized  for  its  surroundings  ;  was 
altogether  out  of  keeping  with  any  thing  Mrs.  Thorn 
had  so  far  come  in  contact  with.  She  stepped  into 
the  hall,  and  took  down  the  old  spy  glass  that  lay  on 


PERIODIC  PER  TUA BA  TION.  1 03 

top  of  the  row  of  wooden  pegs  that  did  duty  for  a  hat- 
rack.  She  brought  it  out  and  telescoped  the  unfamil- 
iar object.  Yes;  it  was  unmistakably  a  sail-boat  of  the 
most  approved  center-board  pattern.  Quite  a  costly 
possession,  no  doubt.  Two  men  were  in  it.  She  was 
certain  she  had  never  seen  the  one  whose  broad  should- 
ers and  massive  head  the  spy-glass  gave  distinctly  for 
her  inspection.  The  other  one  was  hidden,  from  his 
knees  up,  by  the  outstretched  sail.  She  closed  the 
glass  with  a  snap,  and  returned  it  to  its  place  on  top 
the  wooden  pegs. 

"  Bah  !  this  lonely  life  makes  one  curious  over  the 
veriest  trifle.  The  idea  of  my  wasting  conjecture 
over  two  strange  men  in  a  passing  sail-boat !  It  is 
getting  time  I  was  indoors  feeding  my  famished 
brains." 

For  all  that,  she  stood  still,  noting  how  softly  the 
green  hull  of  the  sail-boat  and  its  gleaming  white  canvas 
harmonized  with  the  blue  and  silver  of  sky  and  lake. 
It  was  skimming  over  the  water  with  the  grace  of  the 
gulls  that  fluttered  and  hovered  amazedly  about  its  tall 
mast  and  pretty  bright  pennon.  She  seated  herself  on 
the  front  steps  to  watch  it  until  it  should  be  hidden  by 
the  thick  growth  of  willows  that  lined  the  lake  bank  on 
the  upper  edge  of  Thorndale.  The  wind  had  stiffened, 
and  the  boat  was  making  excellent  headway.  Sud- 
denly it  tacked,  and,  to  Mrs.  Thorn's  unspeakable  sur- 
prise, was  evidently  heading  straight  for  the  rickety 


104  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

skiff  where  Uncle  Mose  sat  swinging  his  one  good  leg 
over  the  gunwale,  allowing  his  pole  and  line  to  lookout 
for  themselves,  as  he  too  gazed  admiringly  at  the  gay 
craft  bearing  down  upon  him.  When  within  speaking 
distance  the  helmsman  leaned  forward  and  said  some- 
thing to  the  old  fisherman.  Uncle  Mose  doffed  his 
ragged  straw  hat  to  listen,  and  made  some  answer, 
and  pointed  toward  the  spot  where  Mrs.  Thorn  sat 
watching  them  with  growing  interest.  In  another  second 
the  green  hull  of  the  sail-boat  grated  against  the  sandy 
bank,  and  the  two  men  stepped  ashore.  They  stamped 
on  the  ground  to  bring  their  trowsers'  legs  into  position, 
gave  a  downward  pull  to  their  vests  and  an  upward 
jerk  in  the  region  of  their  cravats,  raised  their  hats  for 
a  furtive  adjustment  of  tumbled  hair,  and  strode  briskly 
toward  the  watcher  on  the  gallery. 

Mrs.  Thorn  was  opposed  on  principle  to  running  at 
sight  of  unexpected  callers.  She  would  have  preferred 
receiving  these  first  visitors  to  Thorndale  since  her 
advent  in  more  state  than  was  compatible  with  her 
lowly  position  on  the  front  steps;  but  if  Squire 
Thorn's  unconventionality  was  characteristic  of  this 
neighborhood,  these  Sunday  sailors  were  not  likely  to 
prove  hypercritical. 

They  came  toward  her  with  the  brisk  straightfor- 
wardness of  men  with  a  definite  object  in  view.  She 
watched  them  advancing  along  the  broken  and  uneven 
brick  walk.  One  of  them  she  was  quite  sure  she  had 


PERIODIC  PER  TURBA  TION.  I  O$ 

never  seen  before.  The  other  one  she  certainly  had 
hoped  never  to  see  again. 

The  two  men  were  Major  Denny  and  his  guest,  Mr. 
Craycraft. 

"  Mrs.  Thorn,  I  presume  ?  "  the  major  said,  in  that 
frankly  cordial  voice  of  his  which  put  to  immediate 
flight  all  preconceived  intention  of  stiffness  or  reserve 
on  the  part  of  others.  "  I  am  Stirling  Denny,  of  Ross- 
mere." 

Agnes  rose  to  her  stately  height  and  asked  her 
visitors  in  with  grave  courtesy,  including  them  both 
in  one  bow. 

"  Thanks !  no.  We  are  scarcely  entitled  to  the 
courtesy  of  an  invitation  to  enter.  We — Mr.  Cray- 
craft,"  slightly  indicating  his  younger  brother,  upon 
whose  handsome  flushed  face  Mrs.  Thorn's  gaze  rested 
long  enough  for  her  to  say,  "  I  believe  I  have  met  Mr. 
Craycraft " — "  are  taking  the  rounds  of  the  lake  this 
morning  as  messengers  of  evil.  The  reports  from  the 
upper  rivers  are  of  the  most  alarming  character,  and 
the  urgent  necessity  for  strengthening  the  levee  which 
protects  the  bed  of  the  lake  is  staring  us  in  the  face. 
I  had  hoped  to  find  Squire  Thorn  at  home.  My  bad 
news  came  through  the  medium  of  a  Memphis  paper  I 
got  off  the  Grand  Tower,  that  landed  with  some  gin- 
stands  for  me  last  night.  Will  you  please  say  to  the 
squire  that  Mr.  Southmead  suggests  my  house  as  the 
most  convenient  one  for  a  meeting  of  all  interested 


106  THE  NE  W  MAN-  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

to-morrow,  and  I  hope  he  will  join  with  us  ?  It  will 
require  systematized  labor  and  extreme  vigilance  to 
secure  ourselves." 

"  I  shall  certainly  deliver  your  message,"  she  said, 
looking  over  Craycraft's  head  with  a  steady  determina- 
tion to  ignore  him.  Then  she  asked  with  slow  interest  : 
"  Do  the  people  here  live  in  this  condition  of  chronic 
apprehension  ?  I  hear  of  little  else  than  fears  of  an 
overflow  and  memories  of  disaster." 

"I  am  inclined  to  think  they  do." 

"  One  can  not  help  wondering  why  anyone  should 
continue  to  reside  in  a  country  where  nothing  is  sure." 

"  Save  death  and  taxes,"  the  major  responded, 
lightly.  "The  majority  of  them,  I  take  it,  remain 
because  they  are  powerless  to  get  away,  and  because 
they  would  be  helplessly  adrift  in  the  world  out  of  the 
cotton-field,  which  is  the  only  branch  of  industry  they 
understand." 

Agnes  caught  the  pronoun  them,  which  seemed  to 
bespeak  the  major  as  with  these  helpless  toilers  of  the 
soil,  but  not  of  them. 

"You  are  not  a  native  Arkansian,  I  gather?" 

"  No.  But  I  am  already  attached  to  the  soil,  and 
will  be  to  the  people  as  soon  as  they  will  allow  me." 

"Allow  you!"  Mrs.  Thorn's  delicate  eyebrows 
described  an  arch  of  surprise. 

"  Allow  me.  You  must  know,  my  dear  madam,  that 
I  am  a  Yankee  and  a  republican." 


PERIODIC  PERTURB  A  TION.  107 

Agnes  did  know  that  the  new  man  at  Rossmere 
came  in  frequently  for  the  most  bitter  denunciation  by 
her  husband.  Her  flushed  face  betrayed  her  knowl- 
edge. 

"  The  good  people  of  this  section  have  to  take  me 
in  broken  doses.  Now,  I  doubt  very  much  if  the 
squire  would  not  have  accepted  me  and  my  ill  news  as 
the  two  ingredients  of  a  very  unpalatable  dose." 

A  faint  smile  stirred  the  firm  outlines  of  his  hearer's 
lips. 

"  But  I  am  cultivating  a  spirit  of  patience.  At 
present  some  of  my  neighbors  see  only  the  cloven 
foot."  The  roguish  smile  which  accompanied  these 
words  divested  them  of  any  sound  of  complaint. 

"Do  you  not  find  it  very  lonely  here ?"  he  asked, 
looking  with  kindly  sympathy  into  the  earnest  eyes 
that  were  fastened  on  his  face.  "  And  yet  it  is  a  pretty 
spot." 

"  One  can  not  conceive  of  the  isolation  of  such  lives 
until  one  leads  them,"  she  said,  in  a  slow,  uncom- 
plaining way.  "  One  comes  to  appreciate  labor  as  a 
benign  institution.  Yes,  it  is  a  pretty  situation." 

"And  yet  there  are  some  charming  people  in  the 
neighborhood.  The  Tievina  ladies — you  will  like 
them.  It  is  their  intention  to  call,  I  know.  The  aunt 
you  will  find  conservative  in  the  extreme.  The  niece 
is  larger-minded  and  more  liberal.  She  will  suit  you 
best,  I  imagine." 


loS  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  I  think  we  shall  not  meet,"  said  Mrs.  Thorn,  can- 
didly. "  Some  sort  of  feud  exists  between  the  South- 
meads  and  the  Thorns.  I  have  heard  Mr.  Thorn  speak 
of  it.  One  learns  to  be  very  independent  of  one's  kind 
in  this  sort  of  life." 

"  It  is  not  well  that  one  should,  though,  do  you 
think?" 

The  major  rose  from  the  step  where  he  had  seated 
himself  after  refusing  a  second  invitation  into  the 
house.  It  was  quite  the  custom  of  the  country  to 
make  seats  of  the  gallery  steps  when  the  weather  per- 
mitted. He  gazed  a  second  abstractedly  into  the  crown 
of  his  hat.  There  was  something  in  the  dreary  isola- 
tion of  this  woman — young,  intelligent,  and  refined — 
that  touched  his  quick  sympathies.  Presently  he  said, 
abruptly  : 

"  I  wish  I  were  so  situated  that  I  could  assist  in  mak- 
ing your  reception  to  a  strange  neighborhood  less  chill- 
ing. I,  as  a  man,  have  suffered  from  the  same  chill. 
It  must  be  doubly  hard  on  a  woman." 

"  Brides  of  a  few  months'  standing  are  rarely  sym- 
pathized with  on  the  score  of  loneliness,  major.  You 
do  not  compliment  the  squire." 

This  rude  rejoinder  came  from  Manton,  who  laughed 
maliciously  and  ground  his  heel  into  the  brick-dust  of 
the  walk.  Mrs.  Thorn's  glance  passed  over  him  icily, 
as  she  said  to  Stirling,  with  vague  comprehensive- 
ness : 


PERIODIC  PER  TURBA  TION.  109 

"  You  are  very  good,  no  doubt.  I  shall  get  used  to 
every  thing  some  day." 

Major  Denny  heard  only  a  piece  of  clumsy  imperti- 
nence in  his  brother's  remarks.  He  blushed  for  the 
unacknowledged  tie  between  them.  The  exquisite 
self-possession  of  the  squire's  wife  was  beyond  criticism. 
She  bowed  in  impartial  politeness  as  they  turned  away 
from  the  door.  They  had  reached  the  gate  when  Cray- 
craft  turned  suddenly  and  came  back  for  the  buckskin 
gauntlets  he  had  left  upon  the  lower  step. 

"Pardon  me,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  stooping 
posture  with  crimson  cheeks  ;  "  I  am  a  clumsy  boor  ! 
One  thing  I  must  make  you  understand.  I  did  not 
know  you  were  married  or  living  here  when  I  came  to 
this  neighborhood." 

She  was  rigidly  silent. 

"  You  do  not  believe  me ;  I  swear  it  to  you." 

"  I  think  your  friend  is  impatient."  She  fixed  her 
eyes  absently  on  the  sail-boat,  into  which  the  major  had 
sprung  and  was  adjusting  the  cordage.  The  man  below 
her  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"  Non-recognition  is  your  cue,  is  it?  " 

"  I  have  no  cue.  My  dead  past  has  buried  its  dead. 
You  never  knew  Squire  Thorn's  wife.  She  has  known 
you  but  a  few  moments.  I  am  glad,  however,  that  you 
came  back  alone.  I  want  to  ask  you  one  question. 
Where  is  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Dead  !  " 


110  THE  NE  W  MA  NAT  ROSSMERE. 

The  man  raised  his  hat  and  held  it  reverently  aloft 
as  he  uttered  the  solemn  monosyllable. 

"  Dead  ! "  Agnes  repeated  the  word  huskily.  "  Poor 
Emmie ! " 

"  Happy  Emily  !  Released  from  suffering  and  from — 
me ! " 

He  turned  and  walked  quickly  back  to  the  boat 
where  his  brother  was  already  seated. 

Agnes  sat  motionless  until  the  willows  hid  them  from 
her  sight.  Then  she  turned  from  the  warm  sunlight, 
and  the  blue  of  sky  and  lake,  and  the  grace  of  the 
skimming  gulls,  and  went  indoors  to  read  and  to 
pray. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   COMMON   DANGER. 

ATOTHING  better  emphasizes  the  flimsiness  of  most 
1M  social  barriers  than  the  fact  that  in  times  of  grave 
apprehension  they  are  quickly  thrown  down  or  lost 
sight  of,  permitting  their  staunchest  upholders  to  asso- 
ciate with  their  fellow-beings  on  t'other  side  of  the 
magic  barrier  in  comfort  and  safety.  The  sense  of  a 
common  danger  is  a  bond  of  temporary  union  infold- 
ing the  most  incongruous  elements  of  society  in  one 
conciliating  embrace.  As  serenely  calm  as  all  nature 
looked  on  that  peaceful  April  Sabbath,  there  was 
already  a  slow  under  current  of  excitement  permeating 
the  atmosphere  and  stirring  the  sluggish  pulses  of  men 
with  whom  the  dread  but  familiar  necessity  for  "  fight- 
ing the  water  "  was  ever  recurring.  Notwithstanding 
the  species  of  Sabbath  breaking  regularly  practiced  by 
the  men  of  the  neighborhood,  Sunday  is  more  abso- 
lutely a  day  of  rest  on  the  plantation  homes  than  it 
probably  is  anywhere  where  people  are  nominally  Chris- 
tians. In  it  no  manner  of  work  is  done  by  man-serv- 
ant or  maid-servant.  Even  the  day's  dinner  is  gener- 
ally cooked  the  Saturday  before  ;  not  from  overscrup- 


1 1 2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  KOSSMEKE . 

ulosity  touching  the  Scriptures,  but  because  Sunday  is 
"  meetin'  day,"  and  cook's  prerogative  of  attendance  is 
not  to  be  lightly  interfered  with.  An  occasional  sud- 
den call  to  "  hear  preaching  "  in  an  empty  storeroom  at 
the  landing  or  in  some  neighbor's  parlor  comprised  the 
white  woman's  opportunity  for  divine  worship  from 
one  year's  end  to  the  other  in  this  particular  neighbor- 
hood, and,  meager  as  the  opportunity  was,  it  was 
a  privilege  afforded  only  by  the  accidental  straying  in- 
to the  neighborhood  of  some  itinerant  preacher.  A 
rest  from  labor  and  excess  of  ennui  marked  the  day 
for  the  women  who  were  debarred  the  mild  diversion 
of  riding  to  the  landing  and  waiting  for  the  boat. 
There  were  some  who  found  it  hard  to  narrow  their 
mental  vision  down  to  the  circumscribed  limits  of  four 
walls  and  a  yard  fence ;  and  those  passed  for  the  dis- 
contented sort,  for  whose  suppression  or  rebuke  almost 
any  measure  was  allowable,  according  to  public  opinion. 
Perhaps,  after  all,  it  was  ennui  as  much  as  pity  for  a 
woman  whose  lot  was  cast  in  even  greater  desolation 
than  her  own  that  made  Mrs.  Southmead  ask  of  Mrs. 
Ralston  that  same  morning  : 
"  Ursula,  do  you  intend  calling  on  Mrs.  Thorn  ?  " 
Ursula  looked  at  her  with  some  surprise,  but  evi- 
dent pleasure. 

"  I  have  only  been  waiting  for  you,  Aunt  Amelia. 
A  call  from  me  would  hardly  be  sufficient,  seeing  that 
I  have  no  house  to  offer  her  the  hospitality  of." 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  113 

"  Oh  !  as  far  as  that  goes,  I  don't  suppose  it  will  ever 
amount  to  any  thing  more  than  a  stiff  call  or  two.  I 
suppose  humanity  demands  one  on  our  part." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  a  great  deal  of  her  this  morn- 
ing," says  'Sula. 

"  Why  this  morning  especially?" 

"  When  I  saw  Squire  Thorn  ride  by  on  his  way  to 
the  landing,  and  I  knew  she  was  there  on  that  dreary 
plantation,  with  no  white  face  within  miles  of  her,  my 
heart  went  out  in  pity.  And  she  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land  !  " 

"  Unless  she  is  subject  to  epilepsy  she  is  in  no  imme- 
diate danger,"  Mrs.  Southmead  said,  comfortably. 
"And  you  know  it  is  quite  absurd  to  be  accrediting 
any  woman  who  could  marry  Squire  Thorn  with  deli- 
cate nerves. " 

"  We  have  no  means  of  judging  from  her  standpoint, 
aunt.  She  may  see  more  to  admire  in  him  than  he 
shows  to  the  world  in  general." 

"  Don't !  I  insist,  'Sula,  that  you  do  not  try  to  weave 
a  halo  of  romance  about  that  crusty  old  man.  But  if  we 
are  going  to  call  at  all,  this  is  as  good  a  time  xs  any. 
After  to-day  there'll  be  no  coaxing  a  pair  of  mules  out 
of  the  plow  for  love  or  money.  And  your  uncle  is 
already  so  consumed  with  anxiety  about  the  levees 
that  there  will  be  no  securing  him  for  a  driver  if  we 
wait  much  longer.  There  is  another  advantage  in 
going  now,  it  will  be  impossible  for  her  to  return  the 


1 1 4  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

visit  until  after  the  squire  is  done  breaking  up;  so  we 
will  not  be  rushed  into  an  intimacy  that  we  may  not 
desire." 

"There  comes  Uncle  George  now,"  said  'Sula,  turn- 
ing her  head  at  sound  of  the  iron  gate-latch  dropping. 
"  I  don't  like  the  look  on  his  face." 

Both  women  were  standing  in  the  doorway  by  the 
time  Mr.  Southmead  reached  the  steps. 

"Well,  what  about  the  rivers?" 

"  All  rising !  Watery  prospect  ahead  !  But  we're 
going  to  fight  for  the  bed  of  the  lake  even  if  the  rest 
of  the  country  has  to  go  under.  I've  been  talking 
with  a  lot  of  fellows  out  at  the  landing.  We've  got  to 
work  if  .we  hope  to  escape." 

Then  as  they  all  sat  down  to  their  cold  Sunday  din- 
ner, Mr.  Southmead  gave  them  more  in  detail  the  news 
he  had  picked  up  at  the  landihg. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  seen  Thorn,"  he  said,  in  con- 
clusion. "  I  missed  him  at  the  landing.  He  must 
have  gone  home  around  the  other  road.  The  weakest 
part  of  the  entire  levee  around  the  lake  is  on  his  place, 
and  if  he  don't  work  like  all  wrath  we're  bound  to  go 
under.  I  want  to  offer  him  some  help." 

"Will  he  accept  it  from  a  Southmead?" 

"  There's  no  time  for  childish  nonsense  now,  nor 
pouting  over  an  antiquated  grudge,"  Mr.  Southmead 
says,  energetically. 

"  Ursula  and  I  were  talking   about  a  visit  to  Mrs. 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  115 

Thorn  just  before  you  came  home.  We  supposed,  as  it 
was  Sunday,  we  could  get  a  wagon  and  a  pair  of  mules. 
Suppose  you  drive  us  to  Thorndale  after  dinner.  I'm 
sure  I'll  never  be  any  more  in  the  notion  for  it  than  I 
am  to-day." 

Mr.  Southmead  assenting,  they  separated  to  prepare 
for  the  undertaking  of  a  call.  When,  finally,  Mrs. 
Southmead,  rustling  in  the  black  silk  which,  like  her- 
self, had  seen  better  days,  and  Mrs.  Ralston,  daintily 
fresh  in  all  the  appointments  of  a  very  simple  toilet, 
reappeared  to  take  their  places  in  the  blue-bodied 
wagon,  whose  floor  was  swept  and  garnished  and  glori- 
fied with  the  parlor  rug  and  supplied  with  two  chairs, 
and  which  Mr.  Southmead  backed  close  up  to  the  steps 
for  them  to  climb  into,  the  incongruity  between  the 
conveyance  and  the  conveyed  were  ludicrous.  The 
handsome  master  of  Tievina  was  enthroned  in  corpu- 
lent dignity  on  a  plank  laid  across  the  front  of  the 
wagon.  Two  harnessed-scarred  mules  flapped  their 
long  ears  dismally  at  this  infringement  of  their  holiday 
leisure,  and  whisked  their  short  tails  in  disrespectful 
resentment  as  Mr.  Southmead  tightened  his  hold  on 
the  rope-bridle  reins,  and  backed  yet  closer  for  his 
wife's  convenience  in  clambering  over  the  tail-board. 
Mrs.  Southmead  tried  to  dignify  the  action  of  climbing 
the  tail-board  as  much  as  possible,  but  it  was  an  occa- 
sion for  agility  rather  than  majesty. 

"  All  aboard !     Git  up  !  " 


1 16  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

The  driver  flourished  his  long  whip  with  a  resound- 
ing crack.  The  trace  chains  clanked,  the  wagon 
jerked,  and  the  most  aristocratic  people  in  the  county 
were  off  to  pay  a  call,  swaying  wildly  in  their  untrust- 
worthy chairs,  catching  frantically  at  each  other,  at 
the  wagon's  side,  at  the  driver's  coat-tails,  at  any  thing 
and  every  thing  that  promised  aid  or  comfort  ! 

Mr.  Southmead  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder  at  the 
limited  space  in  which  his  wife  and  niece  were  sway- 
ing like  two  poorly-regulated  pendulums,  to  say  with 
a  grin  of  malice  : 

"  Hope  you're  not  crowded  !  " 

"  It  is  positively  disgraceful.  I  conside'r  it  much 
more  respectable  to  stay  at  home  forever!"  Mrs. 
Southmead  declares  between  lurches  in  irrelevant  re- 
sponse. 

"  Remember  this  is  a  duty  visit,  auntie,"  'Sula 
responds,  in  jolting  accents,  which  failed  of  their  sooth- 
ing intentions  by  reason  of  excessive  jerkiness. 

"  I  hope  your  sublime  appreciation  of  duty  will 
soothe  the  ache  in  your  bones  to-morrow.  As  for  me, 
I  expect  to  be  reduced  to  pulp  long  before  we  get 
there." 

"  Every  body  ought  to  know  how  to  ride  on  horse- 
back in  this  country,"  Mr.  Southmead  says,  with  mas- 
culine superiority.  "  Our  grandmothers  did  it.  But 
the  women  of  to-day  are  not  the  creatures  to  dare  and 
do,  that  they  were." 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  117 

"  Your  grandmothers,"  says  Mrs.  Southmead,  with 
jerky  asperity,  liberally  bestowing  all  the  grandmothers 
on  her  husband,  "  did  just  as  we  are  doing,  I  presume  : 
they  did  the  best  they  could  under  the  circumstances. 
It  is  astonishing  how  much  credit  people  that  lived-  a 
hundred  years  ago  get  for  every  thing  they  did.  I  sup- 
pose my  reward. will  come  a  hundred  years  hence,  when 
Carl's  great-grandchildren  will  recall  the  legends  of  the 
war  and  this  ride,  with  the  moral  effect  of  a  rebuke  to 
the  degeneracy  of  those  times.  Mercy,  Ursula!  if  you 
don't  let  me  hold  on  to  some  part  of  you,  you  will  have 
nothing  but  a  parcel  of  broken  bones  to  introduce  to 
your  Mrs.  Thorn." 

"Cleave  to  each  other,  my  dears!  In  union  is 
strength  ! "  says  Mr.  Southmead,  urging  his  mules 
to  greater  speed  in  the  direction  of  Thorndale. 
"  I  will  make  your  agony  as  brief  as  possible, 
wife." 

In  the  meantime,  Mrs.  Thorn,  comfortably  ignorant 
of  the  amount  of  discomfort  she  was  innocently  occa- 
sioning her  neighbors,  was  delivering  the  major's  mes- 
sage to  her  husband,  verbatim. 

The  squire  had  come  home  late.  She  had  eaten  her 
dinner  alone,  and  gone  back  to  the  big  splint-bottomed 
chair  on  the  gallery,  when  she  saw  him  come  shuffling 
up  the  walk.  He  was  tired,  and  his  temper  was  in  no 
wise  improved  by  the  news  he  had  heard  at  the  landing 
touching  the  river  prospect. 


1 1 8  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

After  five  hours  of  loneliness,  Mrs.  Thorn  was  ready 
to  be  thankful  for  any  human  intercourse.  To  that,  or 
some  reason,  more  deep-seated,  the  squire  was  indebted 
for  an  almost  cordial  reception  home.  The  usual  still, 
cold,  imperturbable  courtesy  of  his  wife  was  a  greater 
trial  to  him  than  the  most  vixenish  displays  of  temper 
would  have  been.  He  did  not  know  how  to  cope  with 
this  order  of  womankind.  She  rose  to  meet  him,  and 
held  out  her  hand  to  relieve  him  of  his  hat  and  red 
cowhide  whip.  He  shambled  past  her,  with  that  heavy 
tread,  dragging  his  heels  in  the  fashion  that  was  such  a 
trial  to  her  nerves,  and  deposited  them  himself  on  the 
pegs  in  the  hall.  Agnes  watched  him  in  calm  indiffer- 
ence. She  wondered  if  he  had  ever  done  a  sponta- 
neously graceful  or  gracious  thing  in  his  life,  He  came 
back  to  the  gallery  immediately,  mopping  his  face  and 
neck  and  wrists  with  his  pocket  handkerchief.  That 
was  the  squire's  way  of  getting  rid  of  the  dust  he  had 
accumulated  in  his  ride.  His  wife  indicated,  by  a 
motion,  the  best  of  the  two  splint-bottomed  chairs  for 
his  acceptance.  He  chose  the  worst,  and,  dragging  it 
close  to  the  gallery  railing,  seated  himself,  elevated  his 
feet-to  the  banister  rail,  and  carefully  located  in  his 
right  cheek  a  solacing  quid  of  tobacco. 

Seeing  him  finally  settled,  Mrs.  Thorn  conscientiously 
delivered  Major  Denny's  urgent  message  concerning  the 
water. 

A  grunt,  altogether  untranslatable  into  written  Ian- 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  1 19 

guage,  escaped  through  the  squire's  grim  lips.  Then, 
after  quite  a  pause,  he  says,  ungraciously  : 

"  I  suppose  the  major  doesn't  think  any  body's 
a-watchin'  the  river  but  him." 

"  He  did  not  impress  me  as  wishing  to  be  officious. 
You  do  not  like  him,  I  perceive,"  Agnes  says,  in  that 
straightforward  way  of  hers  that  is  so  discomfiting  to 
her  husband. 

"  Oh,  he'll  do  well  enough  for  a  Yankee  !  They're 
bound  to  show  their  own  importance,  or  bust.  I  won- 
der how  they  suppose  we  ever  did  manage  to  take  care 
of  this  country  without  'em  !  " 

"  Poorly  enough,  if  one  may  judge  from  present 
appearances,"  Mrs.  Thorn  answered,  with  light  con- 
tempt, as  she  turned  her  gaze  away  from  the  morose 
old  man  in  the  chair  to  the  orchard  side  of  the  house.  The 
plum  blossoms  and  the  wisterias  were  prettier  to  look 
at,  and  less  disappointing.  Presently  she  said,  in  a 
surprised  voice : 

"  There  comes  a  wagon,  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
there  are  white  people  in  it.  Ladies,  two  of  them  look 
to  be!" 

Squire  Thorn  turned  his  better-trained  eyes  in  the 
same  direction.  A  wagon,  with  white  people  in  it,  who 
might  probably  be  ladies,  was  well  deserving  of  close 
scrutiny. 

"  The  Tievina  team !  and  by  George  !  the  Tievina 
people,"  he  said,  promptly,  with  an  approach  to  pleas- 


120  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ure  in  his  voice,  bringing  his  feet  down  on  the 
floor. 

"  Who  are  the  Tievina  people  ?  Oh,  yes !  the  South- 
meads!  Major  Denny  spoke  of  them." 

"  They  are  the  high  flyers  of  the  county,  that's  who 
— the  best  people,  Mrs.  Thorn." 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  like  them." 

"  I've  got  nothing  'gainst  the  Tievina  women-folks, 
but  the  men  are  a  good-for-nothin',  triflin',  snipe  shootin' 
lot.  You  mark  my  words,  now  I  come  to  think  of  it, 
George  Southmead's  put  himself  to  the  trouble  of  this 
visit  just  to  tell  me  that  the  Mississippi  River  is  on  the 
rise !  Deuce  take  'em  all,  do  they  think  I'm  in  my 
dotage  ?  "  The  squire's  short-lived  pleasure  expired  at 
the  thought  and  his  harsh  face  became  once  more  over- 
cast. With  such  preparatory  remarks  Mrs.  Thorn  natu- 
rally regarded  the  prospect  of  receiving  the  "best  peo- 
ple "  of  the  county,  in  company  with  her  intractable 
husband,  as  something  of  an  ordeal.  Perhaps  it  might 
have  proven  so  if  "  Cozzie  "  had  not  been  on  hand  and 
manipulated  the  squire  skillfully,  as  she  did  everybody 
with  whom  she  came  into  contact,  slurring  his  asperities 
over  until  he  made  a  really  decent  show  of  cordial- 
ity, and  was  put  into  good  humor  with  himself.  The 
men  talked  about  the  coming  of  the  water;  how  much 
it  had  risen  at  Cairo  and  Memphis  the  night  pre- 
viously; what  means  should  be  taken  to  strengthen 
and  to  guard  the  lake  levee,  upon  which  their  salvation 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  121 

depended.  The  women  discussed  servants  and  poul- 
try and  spring  gardens,  and  wondered  what  on  earth 
would  become  of  them  in  the  event  of  another  overflow. 
And  Mrs.  Southmead  contributed  a  dramatic  touch  to 
the  talk  by  describing,  for  Mrs.  Thorn's  benefit,  the 
overflows  that  she  had  lived  through.  She  stopped  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence  to  listen  to  the  squire's  harsh 
voice,  as  it  was  raised  in  condemnation  of  Stirling 
Denny.  Mr.  Southmead  had  made  himself  rather 
obnoxious  by  quoting  the  major  and  his  opinions  some- 
what liberally.  The  squire  luxuriated  in  opposition 
and  antagonism. 

"  Blamed  if  I  can  see  what  there  is  in  that  fellow  to 
make  every  body  knuckle  down  to  him  so  !  I  ain't  for- 
got yet  that  I'm  a  Southerner  and  he's  a  Yankee,  and 
that  he's  the  mortal  foe  of  all  the  institutions  that's 
been  our  meat  and  bread  in  the  past.  It  strikes  me  as 
sorter  impudent  for  any  of  them  fellers  to  settle  down 
here  'mongst  us,  and  go  to  givin'  us  lessons  'bout  the 
Mississippi  River.  It's  a  kind  of  crowin'  over  us  that 
they  do  whenever  they  get  half  a  chance.  Yes,  sir, 
they  do."  Mrs.  Thorn  looked  uncomfortable.  Mrs. 
Southmead  felt  for  once  in  sympathy  with  the  squire. 
Her  own  bosom  was  being  perpetually  torn  with  con- 
flicting emotions  touching  the  new  man  at  Rossmere. 
Admiration  for  the  man  as  she  saw  him,  and  repulsion 
for  him  as  the  representative  of  a  race  of  foemen,  held 
alternate  sway  in  her  amiable  bosom.  Mr.  Southmead 


1 2  2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

laughed  good-naturedly  into  the  old  man's  cross 
face. 

"  You  are  evidently  unreconstructed,  squire.  Come 
now,  acknowledge;  in  company  with  Denny  do  you 
not  find  him  frank,  gentlemanly,  unassuming,  and  enter- 
taining?" 

"  Grant  that  I  do ;  does  that  alter  the  fact  that  he 
is—" 

"A  Yankee!  I  know  how  you're  going  to  finish 
your  sentence.  The  truth  is,  my  friend,  we  are  all 
too  deeply  dyed  in  the  wool  of  senseless  prejudices. 
My  wife  yonder,  amiable  as  she  looks,  Mrs.  Thorn,  is 
about  the  worst  of  the  lot.  When  Denny  is  with  us, 
she  forgets  every  thing  but  the  man,  and  he  is  a  mag- 
netic sort  of  fellow,  who'd  make  the  devil  himself  ur- 
bane if  he  chose  to  work  on  him.  You  have  not  met 
the  major  yet  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  was  here  for  a  short  while  this  morning.  I 
was  very  much  pleased  with  him.  I  am  afraid  I  am 
deficient  in  loyalty,"  said  Agnes,  with  that  slow,  rare 
smile  of  hers. 

"Or  in  prejudices.  But  even  the  squire  here  should 
not  fall  back  from  Denny's  leadership  in  the  present 
emergency.  The  major  was  educated  as  a  civil  engi- 
neer, squire,  though  he  did  dabble  in  law  too.  Intelli- 
gent and  concerted  action  is  all  that  is  going  to  save 
us.  I,  for  one,  am  perfectly  willing  to  act  as  subordi- 
nate to  such  a  leader.  It  was  agreed  among  a  lot  of 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  123 

us  at  Shadyridge  this  morning  to  meet  at  Denny's  to- 
morrow and  let  him  assign  us  our  tasks.  Will  you  be 
one  of  us  ?  I  will  wait  for  you  in  the  morning  if  you 
say  so." 

"  I  suppose,  then,  if  Denny  never  had  bought  the  old 
Rossmere  place  there'd  be  no  salvation  for  us  in  the 
present  cri-siss,"  says  the  squire,  growing  sibilant  in  his 
wrath. 

"  Not  quite  that ;  but  we  would  scramble  through 
the  emergency  at  a  much  greater  expenditure  of  time 
and  labor  than  we  are  likely  to  do  under  him.  I  am 
afraid,  squire,  you  don't  appreciate  the  advantage  of 
skilled  labor  over  brute  force." 

"  We  done  well  enough  before  the  war,  and  if  they'd 
'a'  let  us  alone  we'd  'a'  continued  doin'  well  enough. 
Hang  'em  !  " 

"  Might  as  well  argue  with  one  of  his  work-mules," 
Mr.  Southmead  decided  mentally  ;  then  aloud,  as  he 
rose  in  obedience  to  his  wife's  signal  of  departure  : 

"  Notwithstanding  which,  squire,  I  expect  to  see  you 
at  Rossmere  to-morrow.  I  think  our  mortal  foe  will 
prove  an  invaluable  friend  if  we've  wisdom  enough  to 
avail  ourselves  of  his  ability." 

"  P'raps  I'll  be  along,"  the  squire  conceded,  "  and,  if 
it's  all  the  same  to  your  ladies,  I'll  fetch  her  along  and 
leave  her  at  Tievina,  while  we  go  on  to  Denny's.  It 
ain't  none  too  lively  for  her  when  I'm  at  home,  and 
maybe  it's  a  trifle  worse  when  I  am  not."  At  the  word 


1 24  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"her,"  he  indicated  Agnes  by  a  backward  jerk  of  his 
thumb.  It  was  a  clumsy  effort  at  kindness  on  his  part, 
but  it  went  all  astray.  Mrs.  Thorn  crimsoned  with 
mortification  at  being  thus  disposed  of. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  averse  to  being  left  alone,"  she  said, 
quickly.  "  I  keep  busy  and — oblivious,"  she  added, 
recklessly,  looking  straight  into  'Sula's  sympathetic 
eyes. 

'Sula  took  and  retained  her  hostess's  hand  while  she 
said,  quietly: 

"  It  is  kind  of  Squire  Thorn  to  think  of  our  pleasure. 
You  will  soon  learn,  my  dear  Mrs.  Thorn,  that  the  rules 
and  regulations  of  fashionable  society  do  not  hold  here. 
Etiquette  does  not  jolt  across  country  in  a  farm-wagon," 
she  added,  laughingly  describing  Mr.  Southmead's  awk- 
ward efforts  to  back  up  skillfully  for  their  accommoda- 
tion. "  We  try  to  preserve  the  unities  by  being  plain 
and  sensible,  and  in  keeping  with  our  mules  rather  than 
with  our  memories.  Don't  waste  visiting  cards  on  us  ; 
we  know  the  meaning  of  them,  but  the  use  of  them  is  fast 
becoming  legendary.  And,  please,  dear  Mrs.  Thorn — 
that  is,  if  you  hope  to  render  life  at  all  endurable  under 
the  existing  state  of  affairs — try  to  bear  in  mind  that 
people  living  as  far  apart  as  we  all  do  cannot  afford  to 
fritter  away  their  opportunities  in  meaningless  formal- 
ities. We  want  you  to  feel  that  you  have  friends,  and 
not  simply  acquaintances,  at  Tievina — don't  we, 
auntie  ?  " 


A  COMMON  DANGER.  125 

Mrs.  Southmead  indorsed  Ursula's  friendly  overtures 
with  a  great  deal  of  politeness,  if  not  quite  so  much 
sweetness,  and  Agnes's  lonely  heart  went  out  to  them 
both  as  she  pressed  their  hands  in  warm  adieu. 

"What  do  you  suppose  it  means?" 

Mrs.  Southmead  asks  this,  only  waiting  for  a  safe 
distance  between  the  wagon  and  the  house  to  be 
reached. 

"  She  is  a  decidedly  handsome  woman,  and  no  fool 
either,"  is  Mr.  Southmead's  contribution  to  the  one 
topic  of  their  thoughts. 

"  She  must  have  had  some  very  powerful  reason  for 
taking  such  a  strange  step,"  'Stila  says.  "  She  is  not 
only  handsome,  but  she  is  intelligent  and  well  bred. 
There  is  something  repugnant  to  me  in  this  union." 

"  There  is,"  Mrs.  Southmead  responds,  as  placidly  as 
her  vibratory  condition  will  admit  of.  "  I  was  pleased 
with  one  thing." 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  He  is  afraid  of  her.  Some  men  can  be  controlled 
by  fear  alone,"  she  answers,  in  an  experienced  manner. 
"  I  foretell  a  tragedy  at  Thorndale." 

But  as  Mrs.  Southmead's  prophecies  were  always 
ominous,  and  never  fulfilled,  this  one  naturally  did  not 
disquiet  her  hearers  materially. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OFFENSIVE  AND   DEFENSIVE. 

AND  so  it  came  about  that,  at  the  close  of  the 
called  meeting  of  the  lake  planters,  as  they 
were  locally  known,  which  was  held  in  the  parlor  of 
Stirling  Denny's  house,  he  found  himself  invested  with 
the  grave  responsibility  of  directing  the  movements 
and  advising  the  disposition  of  labor  throughout  his 
neighborhood,  for  purposes  of  resistance  to  a  foe  that 
advanced  upon  them  with  the  silent  resolution  of 
fate. 

Although  many  years  the  junior  of  most  of  the  men 
around  him,  there  were  two  potent  reasons  for  assign- 
ing him  this  leadership.  One  was  his  superior  acquire- 
ments as  civil  engineer ;  the  other,  the  fact  that  the 
entire  colored  population,  regarding  him  as  the  apostle 
of  that  liberty  for  which  so  much  precious  blood  had 
been  spilled,  followed  eagerly  wherever  he  chose  to  lead; 
or,  as  Squire  Thorn  tersely  put  it,  "  he  had  every  nig- 
ger in  the  county  under  his  thumb." 

While  perhaps  not  as  familiar  with  the  topography 
of  the  country  as  the  squire,  Mr.  Southmead,  or  any 
Other  one  of  the  planters  who  had  spent  their  lives  in 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  127 

that  one  spot,  he  brought  to  bear  upon  the  momentous 
task  of  preserving  it  from  the  threatening  floods  a  keen- 
ness of  vision,  clearness  of  judgment,  and  energy  of 
action  that  was  not  conspicuous  in  the  others,  who, 
inured  to  a  long  succession  of  disasters,  had  come,  as 
a  rule,  to  regard  any  fresh  possibilities  in  that  line  with 
stolid  patience  and  fatal  apathy. 

Manton  Craycraft  stood  looking  down  admiringly 
upon  his  brother's  earnest  face  as,  with  a  map  of  the 
neighborhood,  drawn  by  himself,  and  now  spread  out 
upon  the  table  for  the  convenience  of  the  assemblage, 
he  explained  the  need  of  raising  the  crown  of  the  levee 
at  one  point,  of  strengthening  its  base  at  another,  of 
forming  a  run-around  at  a  third,  and  of  watching  the 
whole  line  as  men  watch  for  the  approach  of  an  invad- 
ing enemy. 

"You  seem  to  have  the  whole  lake-bed  down  there, 
major,"  he  said.  "  You  have  evidently  been  posting 
yourself." 

"  I  have  been  riding  around  a  good  deal  lately," 
Stirling  answered,  quietly.  "  I  have  been  anticipating 
this  rise,  and  I  believe  that  very  few  points  between 
Cairo  and  New  Orleans  will  escape  inundation.  Among 
the  few,  with  the  help  of  God  and  our  own  right  arms, 
friends,  we  may  be  able  to  include  this  little  nook  of 
ours." 

He  spoke  pleasantly  and  encouragingly.  There  was 
no  display  of  triumph  over  the  fact  that  in  this,  the  hour 


1 2i>  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  XOSSMEKE. 

of  their  extremity,  some  of  the  very  men  who  had  ig- 
nored him  as  a  neighbor,  some  who  had  openly  de- 
nounced him  as  a  Yankee  carpet-bagger,  some  who  had 
doled  out  bare  civility  to  him,  were  all  content  to  place 
the  safety  of  their  homes  and  their  possessions  in  his 
untried  hands.  There  was  something  about  the  man 
that  inspired  confidence  in  the  most  timid  ;  but  no  one 
was  more  unconscious  of  this  than  himself. 

"  Squire  Thorn,"  he  continued,  proceeding  to  roll  his 
map  into  a  scroll,  "I  find  the  very  weakest  portion  of 
our  levee-line  is  on  your  place,  just  below  your  '  ash 
slough.'  It  will  require  watching  day  and  night.  That 
will  be  too  much  of  a  strain  upon  you  personally.  Is 
there  no  white  man  upon  your  premises  beside  your- 
self? With  all^ue  respect  for  the  muscle  and  the  good 
intentions  of  our  colored  friends,  we  can  not  rely  upon 
them  for  this  most  important  branch  of  our  work.  They 
are  too  sleepy-headed  to  make  patrolmen." 

Answering  under  impulse  of  resentment  that  anyone 
should  impugn  his  ability  to  stand  as  much  as  the 
youngest  man  among  them,  the  squire  said,  with  clumsy 
facetiousness : 

"  When  the  strain  gets  too  severe  on  me,  major, 
I'll  notify  you,  as  capt'in  of  this  'ere  brigade  of 
marines." 

"  That's  fair  enough,"  said  the  major,  ignoring  the 
spite  and  accepting  the  promise  ;  "  only,  see  that  you 
don't  fail  to  do  so,  please,  for  when  the  all  of  an  entire 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  129 

community  is  at  stake  we  can't  afford  to  stand  on  points 
of  etiquette.     That  place  must  be  watched/' 

"  I  was  about  to  say  to  my  friend  Squire  Thorn,"  said 
Manton,  who  had  promptly  claimed  a  renewal  of  last 
summer's  acquaintance,  "  that  as  I  am  a  sort  of  out- 
sider here,  a  rover  in  the  game,  as  you  may  call  me, 
with  more  leisure  than  I  well  know  what  to  do  with, 
I  should  like  to  place  myself  entirely  at  his  disposal, 
promising  to  act  under  his  orders  day  and  night.  I 
really  begin  to  feel  my  share  of  the  universal  anxiety, 
and  will  feel  mortified  if  no  one  will  consent  to  make  use 
of  me.  Promise  me  you  will  accept  me  as  a  sort  of  sub, 
squire.  I'll  act  as  your  orderly  sergeant  by  day,  and 
sentinel  by  night." 

The  major  glanced  quickly  up  into  'the  handsome, 
laughing  face  of  his  brother.  It  was  no  slight  thing  for 
Manton  to  offer  up  his  dearly  loved  ease  on  the  altar  of 
mere  acquaintanceship.  He  caught  the  eager  gleam  in 
his  bold  black  eyes.  He  had  no  confidence  in  this 
pretense  of  service.  He  put  a  cold  veto  on  this  effusive 
offer  of  help. 

"  No  doubt,  Craycraft,  if  Squire  Thorn  finds  that  he 
needs  assistance,  he  can  procure  it  at  much  more  ex- 
perienced hands  than  yours." 

This  interference  settled  the  matter  in  Manton's 
favor.  With  the  proverbial  injustice  of  a  small  soul, 
Squire  Thorn  mistrusted  every  word  or  act  that  could 
not  be  squared  by  his  own  narrow  rule  and  compass. 


1 30  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Denny,  he  immediately  concluded,  must  have  some 
hidden  motive  for  not  wishing  this  friend  of  his  to  give 
this  proffered  aid.  Moreover,  Craycraft  had  artfully 
offered  himself  in  a  subordinate  position.  Pride  of 
place  was  big  in  the  squire;  love  of  supremacy  still 
bigger.  He  spoke  aggressively,  as  if  putting  under 
foot  some  offending  opponent.  He  gave  Manton  his 
entire  attention. 

"  I'm  obliged  to  you,  young  man.  I  don't  think 
things  are  quite  as  blue  as  the  major  finds  'em,  but  in 
case  of  need  I'll  remember  your  friendly  offer  and  call 
on  you  for  help.  There  ain't  but  one  nigger  on  my 
place  I'd  trust  further'n  you  could  swing  a  bull  by  the 
tail,  and  as  he  ain't  made  of  cast  iron — wisht  he  was — 
him  and  me's  both  likely  to  give  out,  in  the  course  of 
nature.  Anyways,"  he  added,  with  growing  friendli- 
ness, "  come  up  and  see  me.  If  you're  a  stranger  in 
these  parts  I  may  be  able  to  amuse  you.  Reckon  you 
never  saw  cotton  planted,  nor  been  fire-huntin',  nor 
torch-gigging?  Oh,  we  manages  to  put  up  a  few  frolics, 
if  we  ain't  got  theaters  and  the  rest,"  the  squire  cul- 
minates, vain-gloriously.  Craycraft  thanked  him 
warmly,  and  accepted  eagerly,  then  flung  defiance  at 
Stirling's  gravely  rebuking  eyes  with  a  light  reckless 
laugh. 

After  a  little  more  discussion  of  ways  and  means,  the 
men  dispersed  with  the  understanding  that  they  were 
to  hold  themselves  and  their  laborers  in  readiness  to  do 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  131 

the  major's  bidding  so  long  as  there  was  any  thing  to  be 
feared  from  the  river  that  was  already  flinging  its 
swollen,  angry  current  in  majestic  wrath  against  the 
feeble  barriers  that  puny  man  opposed  to  its 
might. 

Only  those  who  have  lived  through  such  experiences 
can  form  any  just  conception  of  the  intense  yet  un- 
demonstrative anxiety  that  held  possession  of  the  be- 
leageured  planters  for  the  next  six  weeks.  A  line  of 
twenty  miles  of  levee  was  to  be  protected  from  foes 
without  and  Avithin.  The  levees  along  the  river-line 
were  notoriously  frail.  The  lake-planters,  placing  no 
faith  in  these  outer  works,  had  intrenched  themselves 
behind  a  private  levee  which  girdled  the  nine  planta- 
tions constituting  the  bed  of  the  lake.  An  immense 
culvert  pierced  the  levee  on  the  Rossmere  place,  for 
draining  purposes.  The  levee  about  this  culvert  was  a 
source  of  common  anxiety  to  all.  Wherever  the  line 
might  give  way,  all  would  suffer  alike.  Through  one 
small  bayou  the  waters  of  the  lake  communicated  with 
the  river  to  which  it  pays  tribute,  and  back  through 
which  the  surplus  waters  are  poured  in  time  of  a  rise. 
Day  by  day,  hour  by  hour,  the  muddy  water  crept  inch 
by  inch  higher  against  the  grass-sodded  slope  of  the 
levee.  All  day  long  the  patient,  cheerful  frecdmen 
trod  to  and  fro  with  the  flat  hand-barrows  laden  with 
earth  dug  from  the  land  inside  the  levee,  piling  it  on 
the  sunken  crown.  Experienced  eyes  watched  for  the 


132  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

deadly  craw-fish  holes,  and  the  faintest  line  of  trickling 
water  was  sufficient  to  send  a  man  galloping  in  hasty 
alarm  to  report  the  "  sipe  "  at  headquarters.  The  lake, 
so  blue  and  crystalline  in  its  normal  condition,  grew 
turgid  and  muddy  from  the  influx  of  river  water,  the 
current  of  which  was  defined  by  the  slowly  moving 
procession  of  ugly  black  drift-logs.  All  day  long  the 
slow,  threatening  swell  heaved  against  the  sodden  em- 
bankment. The  men  almost  lived  in  their  saddles,  and 
the  women  spent  lonely  days  at  home,  bearing  the 
harder  burden  of  waiting.  A  foe  of  yet  another  sort 
was  to  be  guarded  against.  The  wind  and  the  craw- 
fish were  not  the  only  dangers.  If  the  levee  protect- 
ing the  bed  of  the  lake  should  break,  the  lands  outlin- 
ing the  outer  circle  of  the  lake  would  be  relieved  from 
the  mighty  pressure,  and  saved.  In  every  emergency 
are  men  to  be  found  whose  instincts  of  self-preserva- 
tion overtop  all  sense  of  honor.  There  were  men  ir. 
this  emergency,  men  who  were  ready,  by  a  single  stab 
in  the  dark,  one  bold  incision  of  a  sharp  spade  in  a  weak 
spot  of  the  levee,  to  send  the  water  in  a  rushing  torrent 
upon  the  beleaguered  lake-planters,  and  not  to  take 
to  themselves  any  consciousness  of  crime.  With  such 
vital  interests  at  stake,  men  fear  to  trust  the  freedmen 
on  sentinel  duty.  Where  they  were  faithful  in  intent 
they  were  physically  unfitted  for  the  wide-awake  vigil- 
ance necessary.  This  made  the  task  of  watching  bear 
very  heavily  on  the  few  white  men.  But  no  one  shirked 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  133 

or  faltered.  Mrs.  Thorn  felt  an  access  of  respect  for 
the  sturdy  powers  of  endurance  developed  by  her  hus- 
band in  this  trying  time. 

To  her  this  experience  came  in  shape  of  a  novelty 
affording  distraction  from  unwholesome  introspection. 
She  extracted  a  feverish  sort  of  entertainment  from 
watching  the  stealthy  advance  of  the  silent  foe  and 
more  healthy  occupation  in  aiding  her  husband's  efforts 
to  resist  it. 

Behind  the  levee  work  was  progressing  as  if  the 
making  of  the  crop  would  not  be  left  to  chance ;  plows 
running  at  regular  work-hours  ;  corn  sowed  in  drills  and 
cotton  planted  as  usual.  One  slender  line  of  green 
earth  between  hopeful  industry  within  and  surging  de- 
struction without ! 

Men  discussed  the  probabilities  for  and  against  sav- 
ing the  levee  as  besieged  soldiers  discuss  the  holding 
of  the  fort.  Stirling  Denny  seemed  ubiquitous.  • 
Wherever  his  piercing  eye  and  cheerful  voice  were  last 
seen  and  heard,  there  hope  seemed  strongest  and  effort 
most  intelligent.  Manton  was  almost  always  at  his 
side.  His  brother  designedly  kept  him  as  busy  as 
possible.  There  was  an  underlying  current  of  uneasi- 
ness in  his  bosom  about  this  returned  prodigal.  He  was 
never  sure  of  what  mischief  Manton  might  concoct.  It 
was  toward  the  close  of  a  day  nearly  a  fortnight  after 
the  levee  meeting  at  Rossmere  that  the  two  men  drew 
rein  in  front  of  Squire  Thorn's  gate,  dismounted  and 


134  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE . 

reached  the  gallery  steps  without  being  observed  by 
the  inmates  of  the  house. 

On  an  iron  couch  at  one  end  of  the  front  gallery,  the 
old  man  of  the  house  lay  sound  asleep.  His  face 
looked  hard  and  worn.  The  rugged  lines  that  seamed 
and  crossed  it  were  haggardly  visible.  The  stern 
mouth  looked  more  than  ever  uncompromising  in  re- 
pose. His  breathing  was  slow  and  labored. 

"  Pretty  well  pulled  down  !  "  said  Manton,  nodding 
toward  the  lounge  as  they  stood  irresolute  on  the 
ground.  "He  isn't  a  sleeping  beauty,  though,  is  he?" 

Mrs.  Thorn  appeared  noiselessly  from  somewhere  in 
the  interior.  She  greeted  them  both  with  that  slight, 
distant  bow  of  hers,  which  one  of  the  men  at  least  re- 
garded as  a  great  improvement  on  the  local  habit  of 
universal  hand-shaking.  She  glanced  toward  the 
lounge  not  unkindly  as  she  said : 

"  Mr.  Thorn  is  sleeping  heavily.  I  think  the  anxiety 
and  loss  of  rest  are  telling  on  him  ;  but  he  will  not 
give  up.  Shall  I  waken  him,  major?" 

Manton  spoke  with  a  quick  abruptness  that  fore- 
stalled any  answer  on  his  brother's  part : 

"The  squire  needs  assistance.  He  promised  me  I 
should  act  as  his  assistant.  With  his  permission  I  will 
stand  watch  for  him  to-night." 

The  sound  of  their  voices  aroused  the  sleeper.  He 
rose  to  a  sitting  posture  with  some  difficulty,  holding 
both  hands  to  his  back  when  he  had  struggled  to 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  135 

gain  his  feet.  He  gazed  around  stupidly  for  half  a 
second,  then  laughed  mirthlessly. 

"Caught  me  napping,  eh!  Mrs.  Thorn,  why  didn't 
you  shake  me  up  when  you  saw  'em  coming?  Wanted 
'em  to  think  the  old  wheel-horse  had  given  out,  did 
ye  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  needed  rest,  and  I  was  sure  Major 
Denny  would  not  mind,"  Agnes  said,  steadily  ignor- 
ing Manton  and  his  offer. 

"  It's  going  to  blow  big  guns  to-night,"  the  old  man 
said,  walking  stiffly  to  where  they  were  sitting  near 
the  door.  "Big  guns,  I  tell  you.  And  the  swell  of 
them  waves  is  going  to  be  mighty  tryin'  to  the  weak 
places  in  the  levee.  I  was  just  tryin'  to  get  forty 
winks  to  make  sure  I  could  hold  out  all  night.  This 
pesky  shoulder  of  mine,"  rubbing  the  offending  mem- 
ber, "  's  been  giving  me  hail  Columbia  with  the  rheu- 
matism ;  but  I  reckon  I  can  pull  through.  Leastways, 
I've  got  to  keep  on  the  go.  No  time  for  swoppin' 
horses  now." 

"  You  need  me,  squire,"  says  Manton,  coolly  walk- 
ing to  the  end  of  the  gallery  to  examine  the  sky ;  "you 
should  have  sent  for  me  sooner." 

"  If  the  major  could  spare  you,  I  won't  deny  I'd  like 
to  have  you." 

Stirling  tapped  his  boot-tops  impatiently  with  his 
long  riding  whip,  and  stared  out  at  the  swollen  lake. 
He  would  infinitely  prefer  that  Manton  should  ride 


136  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

away  with  him  when  he  should  leave  Thorndale.     The 
squire  settled  the  matter  in  his  own  abrupt  fashion  : 

"  Mrs.  Thorn,  will  you  please  call  Jim  from  the  back 
gallery  (I  see  him  go  into  the  kitchen  a  while  back), 
to  take  Mr.  Craycraft's  horse  ;  I  reckon  you'll  have  to 
spare  him  to  me,  major." 

"  I  can  spare  him,"  Stirling  answered,  coldly ;  and 
then,  as  Agnes  turned  from  them,  so  quietly  self-pos- 
sessed in  her  bearing,  so  emotionless  in  her  womanly 
dignity,  he  felt  rebuked  for  the  solicitude  that  was  so 
nearly  an  impertinence.. 

But,  whenever  or  wherever  had  Manton  once  gained 
a  foothold  and  trouble  of  some  sort  not  followed?  He 
rode  away  alone  presently,  turning  his  horse's  head  in 
the  direction  of  Tievina.  The  sun  was  sending  long, 
level  rays  through  a  pile  of  steel-blue  clouds,  tipping 
their  edges  with  lurid  light.  The  green  of  the  water- 
willows  was  strangely  intensified  in  the  stormy  sunset ; 
the  waters  held  the  black  shadows  of  the  clouds,  in 
dark  reflection  ;  there  was  nothing  pleasant  in  the  out- 
look. The  heavens  above,  with  their  fast-drifting 
cloud-mountains ;  the  earth  beneath,  with  its  passion- 
ate ground-swell  of  evil  emotions ;  the  waters  looming 
into  such  sinister  prominence,  all  teemed  with  sugges- 
tions of  darker  things  yet  to  come. 

Without  any  preconceived  intention  of  taking  thn 
Southmeads  in  his  day's  rounds,  he  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised to  find  himself,  later  on,  throwing  his  bridle 


OFFENSIVE  AND  DEFENSIVE.  137 

over  one  of  the  big  spikes  on  the  tree  that  answered 
for  a  horse-rack  at  Tievina,  and  walking  toward  the 
house  with  the  freedom  of  established  intimacy. 

It  seemed  so  perfectly  natural  not  to  pass  the  gate, 
especially  just  now,  when,  having  been  the  entire  cir- 
cuit of  the  lake,  he  had  quite  a  budget  of  river  reports 
to  discuss  with  Mr.  Southmead.  Then  he  had  a  prop- 
osition to  make  to  Frederic,  which  he  thought  would 
please  the  lad,  and  an  unfinished  model  of  a  tug-boat 
in  his  pocket  for  Carl.  It  was  evident  the  male  mem- 
bers of  the  Tievina  household  were  very  interesting  to 
the  new  man  of  Rossmere. 


CHAPTER  XL 

CONTRASTS. 

THE  Tievina  family  grouped  about  the  gallery  pre- 
sented a  cozy  contrast  to  the  home  the  major  had 
just  left,  and  about  which  he  had  been  ruminating  un- 
comfortably. Reclining  luxuriously  in  the  netted  ham- 
mock, swung  diagonally  across  one  end  of  the  gallery, 
was  Mr.  Southmead,  his  slightly  bald  head  bared  to  the 
evening  breeze,  taking  his  ease  and  his  evening  smoke; 
Mrs.  Southmead,  handsome,  indolent,  urbane,  sat  near 
him,  swaying  a  huge  palmetto  fan  lazily  for  their 
united  benefit.  Ursula  was  talking  to  Carl,  whose 
curly  head  lay  close  against  her  cheek,  as  he  leaned 
over  her  shoulder.  Fred's  flute,  which  was  rather  a 
melancholy  instrument,  sent  its  dolorous  notes  out 
through  the  opened  parlor  windows  to  compete  with 
the  brisk  yoddling  of  a  mocking-bird  close  by.  The 
lighted  lamp  on  the  hall  table  gave  the  group  to  the 
major's  leisurely  inspection  as  he  came  up  the  dusky 
walk,  seeing  but  unseen. 

"  One  would  think  there  was  no  such  thing  as  levees, 
or  booming  rivers,  or  possible  inundations,  if  one's  im- 
pressions were  to  be  gathered  in  this  serene  presence," 
he  said,  sending  his  cheerful  voice  ahead  of  him  by  a 


CONTRASTS.  139 

few  steps ;  then,  mounting  the  steps,  and  waiving  the 
ceremony  of  a  general  hand-shaking,  he  took  a  vacant 
chair  by  Mrs.  Ralston's  side. 

"  These  presence,  more  correctly  !  "  says  Mr.  South- 
mead,  assuming  an  uneasy  sitting  posture  in  the  sway- 
ing hammock  as  a  concession  to  his  guest.  "This  is 
my  hour,  Denny.  The  supremacy  of  the  feminine  ele- 
ment in  this  household  does  not  permit  me  to  make 
very  frequent  use  of  that  little  possessive  pronoun  in 
the  singular  number.  But,  I  repeat,  this  is  my  hour. 
In  it  thou  shalt  do  no  manner  of  work,  thou,  nor  thy 
wife,  nor  the  niece,  nor  the  stranger  that  is  within  thy 
gates.  Have  a  cigar!  Carl,  you  rogue,  bring  the  ma- 
jor a  match." 

"  If  the  entire  decalogue  consulted  human  fallibility 
to  the  extent  the  command  for  rest  does,  we  should 
approach  nearer  perfection  than  we  are  likely  to  do 
at  our  present  rate  of  progress,"  the  major  answers, 
scratching  the  match  Carl  has  brought  him  on  the 
floor,  and  illuminating  his  face  for  a  second  as  he  ap- 
plies it  to  his  cigar. 

"  You  will  let  Carl  take  your  hat  and  whip,  Major 
Denny,  and  remain  to  tea  with  us,  I  hope.  I  am  quite 
sure  Mr.  Southmead  desires  it." 

Mrs.  Southmead's  hospitality  was  extended  in  that 
voice  of  cool  dignity  she  reserved  especially  for  inter- 
course with  the  new  man  at  Rossmere.  She  had  not 
yet  quite  gained  free  absolution  from  herself  for  being 


140  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

on  such  apparently  friendly  terms  with  their  mortal 
foe.  She  preferred  reserving  to  herself  the  privilege  of 
saying,  "  I  told  you  so,"  in  case  he  should  suddenly 
develop  any  of  those  vicious  tendencies  which  she  was 
morally  sure  must  be  latent  in  every  Yankee  breast. 
She  was  prepared  to  say  on  a  moment's  notice :  "  You 
know  I  never  did  thoroughly  indorse  the  man."  And 
the  major  was  humorously  aware  of  her  guileful  atti- 
tude. But  'Sula  did  thoroughly  "indorse  the  man," 
so  it  was  without  any  mental  reservation  that  she 
touched  over  and  warmed  up  this  somewhat  languid 
invitation. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  consider  it  a  hardship  to  keep 
Uncle  George  in  countenance  during  his  lazy  hour. 
You  must  find  your  duties  of  general  supervision  of 
all  the  levee  forces  tiresome  in  the  extreme.  We  ex- 
pend a  great  deal  of  pity  on  you  here  at  Tievina." 

"  I  should  like  extremely  to  retain  your  sympathy 
by  pleading  exhaustion,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  afraid  I 
can't  conscientiously.  I  really  enjoy  the  life  of  con- 
stant activity  I  am  forced  to  lead.  I  do  not  feel  in 
the  least  fatigued,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the  grave  un- 
certainty of  our  situation  I  should  even  enjoy  the 
soup^on  of  danger  that  flavors  our  daily  experiences  just 
at  present." 

"  Soup$on,  indeed !  "  Mrs.  Southmead  says,  dolorous- 
ly. "  If  the  levee  goes  this  time,  I  shall  never  under- 
take to  have  a  garden  or  raise  poultry  again.  My  past 


CONTRASTS,  141 

experience  of  raising  spring  chickens  in  a  wagon-bed 
hoisted  on  high  trestles,  and  of  diving  for  submerged 
radishes  and  lettuce,  is  too  agonizingly  fresh  in  my 
memory  as  yet.  And  there  is  Carl,"  she  adds,  contem- 
platively, as  if  the  boy  were  quite  secondary  to  the  rad- 
ishes ;  "  it  keeps  one  person  busy  fishing  him  out  of 
the  water  and  drying  him  off.  I  do  hope,  Major  Den- 
ny, you  are  keeping  every  body  well  up  to  the  mark. 
I  have  always  contended  that  supineness  on  the  part 
of  the  white  men  and  stupidity  on  the  part  of  the 
darkeys  has  had  much  more  to  do  with  our  past  mis- 
fortunes than  Providence.  It  is  all  very  well  to  fold 
one's  hands  and  lay  every  thing  on  Providence  !  " 

"  Denny,"  says  Mr.  Southmead,  with  a  laugh,  "  if 
you  don't  prove  yourself  more  than  a  match  for  Provi- 
dence and  the  Mississippi  River  combined,  your  reputa- 
tion will  be  in  tatters,  '  Supineness  '  and  '  stupidity  ' 
will  be  adjectives  altogether  inadequate  to  your  deserts. 
You're  a  second  Atlas,  man,  with  only  the  difference 
between  a  solid  and  liquid  world  between  your  bur- 
dens. By  the  way,  where  is  your  shadow  this  evening  ? 
your  friend  Craycraft  ?  Do  you  know  my  women  folks 
have  discovered  a  marked  resemblance  between  you 
and  your  friend.  Can't  say  that  I  .see  any.  Why 
didn't  you  fetch  him  along  ?  The  friends  of  our  friends 
are  our  friends,  you  know.  Hope  he  isn't  waiting  for 
a  special  invitation.  Carl,  go  hurry  up  supper,  you 
rogue." 


142  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  KOSSMERE, 

Mr.  Southmead's  habit  of  saying  his  say  out  without 
any  pause  or  reference  to  questions  to  be  answered 
proved  of  inestimable  service  in  the  present  instance. 
The  major's  face  flushed  painfully.  Fortunately,  the 
darkness  concealed  that.  He  abhorred  deceit  in  any 
and  every  one  of  its  manifold  manifestations.  Manton 
had  once  been  in  imminent  danger  of  going  to  the 
penitentiary  of  New  York  state  as  a  defaulter.  He, 
Stirling,  had  impoverished  himself  to  ward  off  the  dis- 
grace and  to  send  him  to  Europe.  He  had  returned 
as  Manton  Craycraft,  which  was  really  his  name  with 
the  Denny  dropped.  If  Stirling  could  have  had  his 
way,  his  brother  would  never  have  come  back.  As  it 
was,  no  good  could  come  of  stripping  off  his  disguise, 
and  much  harm  might  accrue.  Mrs.  Southmead,  with 
that  keenness  of  observation  which  is  so  often  a  marked 
characteristic  in  women  whose  minds  never  soar  into 
the  realm  of  abstract  justice,  took  note  of  the  unusual 
delay  in  the  major's  response  and  the  constraint  in  his 
voice  when  it  finally  came. 

"  I  left  him  at  Squire  Thorn's.  The  old  gentleman 
seemed  really  in  need  of  assistance  this  afternoon,  and 
asked  Craycraft  to  stay.  I  was  drawing  a  contrast,"  he 
continued,  rather  hurriedly,  "  as  I  came  up  the  walk 
there,  between  this  home  and  that  one.  You  all  looked 
so  cozy  and  united,  and — like  a  family  in  short.  There 
we  found  the  old  man  asleep  on  an  iron  lounge,  which 
seemed  scarcely  more  rigid  than  his  own  features  in 


CONTRASTS.  143 

slumber.  The  house  was  silent  and  dark,  and  pres- 
ently, when  Mrs.  Thorn  did  come  out,  she  was  so  white 
and  still  and  grave  that,  without  much  effort  of  imagi- 
nation, one  could  fancy  her  slowly  petrifying,  to  be  in 
keeping  with  the  rigid  condition  of  her  life." 

"  She  would  result  in  a  very  beautiful  piece  of  statu- 
ary," says  Ursula,  accepting  his  fancy  and  compliment- 
ing Mrs.  Thorn  through  it. 

"  Yes ;  she  is  very  handsome.  There  can  scarcely 
be  two  opinions  about  that." 

A  sudden  inspiration  seized  upon  Major  Denny. 
Why  should  he  not  make  this  sweet  woman  by  his 
side,  to  whom  his  own  heart  went  out  with  more  ten- 
der appreciation  every  time  they  came  in  contact,  an 
unconscious  coadjutor  in  his  self-constituted  guardian- 
ship of  the  squire's  wife  from  a  nameless  vague  dan- 
ger? There  was  a  chivalric  determination  in  his  heart 
to  ward  off  from  that  lonely  woman  at  Thorndale  the 
possibility  of  more  trouble.  In  spite  of  him  Manton 
had  established  himself  at  Thorndale.  There  Stirling 
was  quite  sure  he  would  cling.  The  gossiping  procliv- 
ities of  a  small  country  neighborhood  were  something 
to  be  dreaded  and  warded  off  vigorously.  He  turned 
to  'Sula  with  the  eagerness  of  a  suddenly  conceived 
desire  in  his  voice  : 

"  She  is  also  a  yery  lonely  woman.  It  would  be  in 
keeping  with  your  reputation  for  charity,  Mrs.  Rals- 
ton, if  you  would  bestow  as  much  time  and  attention 


144  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

on  her  as  possible.  I  am  sure  she  is  appreciative.  She 
speaks  gratefully  of  the  efforts  you  and  Mrs.  South- 
mead  have  already  made  in  her  behalf." 

"  She  may  well  call  it  an  effort,"  Mrs.  Southmead 
says,  groaning  at  memory  of  that  ride  to  Thorndale. 
"  My  back  aches  yet  from  it." 

'Sula  seemed  strangely  unresponsive,  for  her.  He 
asked,  bluntly:  "  Do  you  not  like  what  you  have  seen 
of  her?  " 

"  If  you  think  I  can  be  of  any  service  to  Mrs.  Thorn, 
I  will  gladly  exert  myself  in  her  behalf.  "Vou  know 
she  does  not  invite  intimacy."  Then,  more  warmly  :  "  I 
would  like  her  very  much  if  she  would  let  me.  I  con- 
fess her  union  with  Squire  Thorn  has  something  abso- 
lutely repulsive  in  it  for  me.  But  she  knows  best  why 
she  married  him." 

"  At  risk  of  being  considered  a  newsmonger,  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  have  heard."  And  the  major  told  the 
story  of  Agnes's  brother,  his  salvation  by  the  squire  on 
the  condition  of  her  mighty  sacrifice.  Who  knew  bet- 
ter than  he  how  to  feel  for  one  whose  entire  life  was 
warped  by  the  ill-doing  of  a  brother? 

"  It  was  nobly  done,"  said  Mr.  Southmead,  as  the 
major  concluded  his  story.  "  By  George,  the  spirit  of 
self-abnegation  in  women  is  marvelous." 

"  It  was  unselfishly  done,"  says 'Sula,  slowly,  "but — 

"  But  what  ?  "  the  major  asks,  curious  to  know  more 
of  the  ethics  held  by  this  gentle,  reticent  woman. 


CONTRASTS.  145 

"  Not  well  done,"  she  concluded,  adding  eagerly,  "  I 
pity  her  very  much." 

"  Well,  if  she  committed  a  crime  in  marrying  the 
squire  from  such  motives,"  says  Mrs.  Southmead 
decisively,  "  she  is  being  punished  more  promptly  than 
criminals  generally  are.  There's  the  tea-bell  at  last." 

"  Perhaps  you  will  not  mind  riding  over  to  Thorn- 
dale  with  me  to-morrow,"  says  the  major,  rather  insist- 
ently, as  he  walks  by  'Sula's  side  toward  the  dining- 
room. 

"  I  should  quite  like  to,"  she  answered,  "  only  we 
have  but  one  riding  horse  now  and  Uncle  George 
keeps  him  constantly  under  the  saddle." 

"  I  think  I  can  give  you  a  better  mount  than  Roxy." 

"What's  that  about  Roxy?"  Mr.  Southmead 
turns  on  him  in  warm  defense  of  his  pet  animal,  and 
the  talk  branches  from  that  horse  to  horses  in  general, 
which  is  a  never-failing  topic  with  a  Southern  man. 

"  "Sula,"  says  Mrs.  Southmead  mysteriously  as, 
soon  after  tea,  the  major  takes  his  leave  and  Mr. 
Southmead  walks  down  to  the  gate  to  see  him  off  hos- 
pitably, "  I  hope  some  of  these  days  to  get  a  little 
credit  for  discrimination.  Did  you  notice  that  man's 
embarrassment  in  talking  about  his  friend  Craycraft  ?  " 

'Sula  reluctantly  admitted  that  she  had  noticed  a 
slight  hesitation  about  his  reply.  "  But  what  then  ?  " 
she  asks,  tartly,  for  her. 

"  There  is  something  wrong,"  Mrs.  Southmead  says, 


1 46  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

exultingly — "  a  mystery  somewhere.  I've  never  felt 
quite  sure  of  him.  He  is  a  Yankee."  Which  was 
quite  as  if  she  had  said,  no  good  thing  can  abide 
therein. 

'Sula  turned  away  coldly.  She  had  no  patience  with 
nor  words  for  such  an  unreasoning  and  unreasonable 
spirit  as  this.  It  was  not  to  be  combated.  It  was 
simply  to  be  ignored. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   HIT   IN   THE   DARK. 

SQUIRE  THORN'S  prediction  that  it  would  likely 
blow  "  big  guns  "  that  night  seemed  destined  to 
literal  fulfillment,  and,  as  they  sat  around  the  supper- 
table,  which,  out  of  compliment  to  "  w'ite  folks  com- 
pany," Aunt  Lucy  had  sadly  overloaded  with  badly 
cooked  and  indigestible  dishes,  with  the  wind  whistling 
in  through  the  unceiled  weather-boards,  setting  the 
lamp  flame  all  a-flutter,  Manton  Craycraft  compli- 
mented him  on  his  weather  wisdom. 

"All  the  more  reason,"  says  the  squire,  hospitably 
piling  a  poached  egg  on  top  of  the  heap  of  fried  Irish 
potatoes  he  had  rather  autocratically  helped  his  guest 
to,  "why  you  should  fortify  yourself  well  before  facing 
the  blizzard.  We've  got  to  do  sentinel  duty  at  the 
big  ditch  by  my  gin  to-night.  The  levee  'crost  it  is 
pretty  well  soaked  now.  Them  devils  on  t'other  side 
of  the  lake  are  just  as  like  as  not  to  pick  out  to-night 
for  cuttin'  the  levee." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  take  an  unusually  fearless 
person  to  venture  across  the  lake  in  a  skiff  to-night. 
The  waves  are  white-capped  and  furious,"  Agnes  says, 


148  THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

studiously  glancing  away  from  Manton's  plate  after 
having  caught  his  look  of  amused  dismay  at  the  task 
set  him  by  the  squire. 

"I  s'pose  it  does  look  sort  of  scary  to  a  woman,  but 
if  I  had  a  ill  turn  to  serve  any  body  I'd  as  soon,  and  a 
little  sooner,  cross  the  lake  now  as  any  other  time." 
The  squire  finished  his  coffee  audibly,  and  turned  his 
attention  paternally  upon  Manton. 

"  Make  out  your  supper,  man,  don't  eat  like  a  bird. 
You've  got  a  jolly  rough  night  ahead  of  you.  I  think 
after  this  one  experience  you're  likely  to  beg  off.  But 
you  are  in  for  it  this  time." 

"  Thanks,  "  said  Manton,  "  I  feel  fully  equal  to  the 
night.  With  Mrs.  Thorn's  permission  I  will  smoke  a 
cigar  before  we  start,"  and  he  pushed  his  chair  back 
from  the  table.  Agnes  watched  the  two  men  making 
their  preparations  for  the  night  with  a  feeling  of  help- 
less resentment  at  the  cool  insolence  of  this  man  who 
had  forced  his  presence  upon  her,  and  yet,  by  his 
seeming  absorption  in  her  husband  and  his  affairs,  left 
her  powerless  to  banish  him.  She  seemed  but  the 
merest  domestic  adjunct  to  the  squire  in  her  guest's 
apprehension. 

The  men  got  into  their  mackintoshes  and  rubber 
overalls,  took  each  a  lantern  and  a  box  of  matches 
and  were  equipped  for  the  night.  The  squire  filled  his 
short  brierwood  pipe  with  strong  plug  tobacco  and 
complacently  puffed  it  in  company  with  Manton's  fra- 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  149 

grant  Havana.  As  they  opened  the  front  door  a  fierce 
gust  of  wind  swept  in  upon  them,  accompanied  by  a 
blinding  dash  of  rain.  The  squire's  lantern  was  ex- 
tinguished by  it.  Manton  knelt  on  the  gallery  floor  to 
relight  it,  holding  his  hat  between  the  wind  and  the 
flickering  match. 

"  How  beautiful  his  head  is,"  Agnes  thought,  stand- 
ing by  her  husband's  side  and  looking  down  upon  the 
close  clinging  brown  waves  of  hair  that  surmounted 
the  young  man's  head.  With  a  sudden  remorse- 
ful impulse  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  squire's 
shoulder. 

"  This  is  a  fearful  night  for  you  to  be  out.  Can  not 
you  delegate  your  duties  to  Mr.  Craycraft  and  to  Jim 
Doakes  ?  You  can  trust  Jim." 

"  Jim's  got  his  work  laid  out  closter  to  home,"  the 
old  man  said  in  a  voice  made  unusually  mild  by  this 
unexpected  display  of  wifely  interest.  "  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  forget  that  I've  got  a  wife  to  look  after  as  well  as  a 
levee.  Jim's  better  than  a  dozen  watch-dogs.  I've  give 
him  orders  not  to  leave  the  house  to-night  except  for 
a  turn  on  the  levee  in  front  out  yonder,  from  the  old 
sycamore  tree  down  to  the  chain  gate.  The  levee's 
all  right  as  a  trivit  long  my  front,  Craycraft,  but  there's 
niggers  on  the  Rowan  place,  just  across  the  lake,  that 
would  think  they  was  a-doin'  the  Lord  a  good  service 
by  slippin'  over  and  takin'  a  slice  out  of  my  levee 
to-night.  Rowan  ain't  none  too  good  to  do  it  himself, 


1 50  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

only  he'd  be  afeard  of  ketchin'  cold,  so  he'd  send  some 
of  his  folks." 

"  Is  Jim  armed  ?  "  Craycraft  asked,  pulling  the  collar 
of  his  rubber  coat  well  up  about  his  ears. 

"With  nothin'  but  a  good  stout  club.  I'd  as  soon 
think  of  armin'  a  mule  with  a  pistol  as  Jim.  He'd 
blow  his  own  brains  out  by  way  of  practicin'  the  use 
of  it." 

"  Then  he'd  only  be  dangerous  at  close  range.  Pretty 
dark  out  yonder,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Manton  laughed  and  boldly  led  the  way  out  into 
the  wet  and  blustering  night.  The  squire,  bracing 
himself  against  the  plunge  by  pulling  down  the  soft 
brim  of  his  felt  hat,  and  making  sure  of  all  the  but- 
tons on  his  mackintosh,  followed  with  a  step  quite  as 
determined,  if  not  so  springy.  Agnes  could  hear  them 
sloppily  making  their  way  through  the  rain-drenched 
yard ;  could  hear  them  speak  to  each  other  in  voices 
raised  high  to  suit  the  uproar  of  the  storm  and  the  dis- 
mal swish-swash  of  the  wind-lashed  waves  as  they 
broke  against  the  resisting  levee.  She  knew  when 
they  reached  the  road  by  the  glimmer  of  Manton's 
cigar  as  he  turned  to  latch  the  gate  behind  them. 
Then  her  husband's  voice  came  harshly  back  to  her 
through  the  turbulent  night. 

"  If  you  get  scared  while  Jim's  out  o'  sight,  Agnes, 
there's  a  loaded  pistol  in  the  writin'-desk  drawer  that 
may  sorter  comfort  you." 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  151 

She  sent  no  answer  back  through  the  bluster  of  the 
night. 

"  Can  she  use  it  ?  "  Manton  asked,  swinging  his  lan- 
tern in  search  of  mud-holes. 

"  She  can  do  'most  any  thing  she's  made  up  her  mind 
to  do."  The  squire's  answer  came  in  laborious  gasps, 
for  what  with  the  rude  dashing  of  the  rain  in  his  face, 
and  the  effort  of  walking  against  the  wind  under  Man- 
ton's  brisk  leadership,  his  breath  was  being  used  up 
most  extravagantly.  "  She's  got  the  pluck  of  forty 
wildcats,"  he  added  boastfully. 

"  You  are  either  a  very  lucky  or  a  very  unlucky  man, 
then,"  says  Craycraft,  with  a  laugh.  Then  they  swung 
around  a  bend  in  the  road  and  the  friendly  gleam  of 
their  lanterns  was  lost  to  the  watcher  on  the  gallery. 
She  was  left  alone,  surrounded  by  impenetrable  dark- 
ness and  gloom.  She  was  not  conscious  of  feeling 
either  afraid  or  lonesome.  On  the  contrary,  she  felt 
strangely  at  one  with  the  tempestuous  night.  The  rain 
dashed  with  such  a  free  sweep  across  the  unsheltered 
veranda  that  she  was  driven  indoors  to  escape  it.  She 
could  not  read.  The  tumult  without  and  within  was 
too  real  for  such  mild  distraction.  She  placed  her  chair 
just  within  the  open  doorway,  where,  by  the  aid  of  an 
occasional  flash  of  lightning,  she  could  locate  the  gate, 
the  fence,  the  dripping  cedars,  and  the  angry,  surging 
lake  beyond.  It  was  as  if  memory  would  give  back 
some  old  familiar  possession  for  a  fleet  glance,  then 


1 5 2  THE  NE.W  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

swallow  it  again  in  oblivion.  Nothing  seemed  real  or 
abiding  but  the  impenetrable  blackness  of  the  night. 
As  a  more  than  usually  vivid  flash  gave  the  storm- 
beaten  yard  to  her  for  another  brief  glimpse,  she  saw 
a  tall  form  advancing  toward  her  from  the  gate  with 
long  strides ;  the  head  was  bowed  to  meet  the  wind, 
and  the  arms  were  tightly  folded  over  the  bosom  of  a 
ragged,  buttonless  coat.  In  spite  of  herself,  Agnes's 
voice  sounded  a  trifle  nervous  as  she  called  out : 

"  Is  that  you,  Jim?" 

"  Yes,  me,  missy.  Is  yer  done  gim'me  up  ?  Mouty 
lonesome  lak,  ain't  yer,  missy  ?" 

The  tall,  lank  form  loomed  up  before  her  in  the 
darkness,  as,  with  much  stamping  of  his  rain-soaked 
shoes,  Jim  mounted  the  steps  ;  the  rough,  kindly  voice 
came  to  her  almost  from  an  invisible  source.  Only  the 
voice  of  a  freedman,  but  laden  with  sympathetic  kind- 
ness that  sprang  from  a  heart  full  of  humble  and  loyal 
affection  for  her.  The  woman  who  had  borne  so  much 
with  dry-eyed  fortitude  that  day  broke  out  into  convul- 
sive and  uncontrollable  sobs  at  the  simple  question. 

Jim's  voice  was  full  of  distress  and  sympathy  as  he 
said  : 

"You  ain't  skeered  now,  missy,  is  you  ?  Jim'd  ben 
here  'fore  now,  but  I'se  ben  havin'  my  eyes  skint  fur  a 
skiff  full  er  dem  raskilly  Rowan  niggers  tudder  side  de 
lake.  I  mistrusses  'em.  I  does  mistrus'  'em,  dat  I 
does.  I  'lows  ef  dey  knows  w'at's  good  fur  dey  whole- 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  153 

some,  dey'll  keep  der  own  side  de  lake.  But  I  ain' 
gvvine  leave  you  no  mo'  t'night,  dat  I  ain'." 

Jim  settled  himself  on  the  floor  of  the  gallery  with 
as  much  humility  as  if  he  really  was  the  watch-dog  the 
squire  had  likened  him  to.  With  his  back  propped 
against  the  frame-work  of  the  front  door,  and  his  huge 
feet  in  their  unseaworthy  boots  stretched  far  out  upon 
the  rain-washed  floor,  he  gave  vent  to  a  "  Dar  now!" 
as  if  he  had  achieved  the  highest  possibility  of  physical 
comfort. 

"  Now  den,  Miss  Aggy,  ef  you'se  a  min'  ter,  you  kin 
go  t'  bed  and  furgit  all  yo'  trubbles.  Can't  nuthin' 
pester  you  now  I'se  roun'." 

"You  are  real  good  to  me,  Jim,  but  I  don't  think  I 
care  to  go  to  bed.  I  believe  I  was  afraid,  though  I  kept 
telling  myself  I  was  not.  I  like  to  know  you  are  within 
call.  You  may  go  to  sleep  yourself,  Jim,  and  if  I  hear 
any  sounds  out  on  the  lake  or  about  the  levee  I'll  call 
you." 

"  Me  go  t'  sleep  !  Lor'  bless  you,  missy,  dar  ain'  no 
sleep  in  dis  nigger's  eyes.  I  'lows  t'  run  down  t'  de 
ole  syc'more  presen'ly — 'tain'  out  sight  de  house.  I'd 
rudder  dem  Rowan  niggers  'd  stick  t'  dey  own  side  de 
lake ;  I  mistrusses  'em.  But  w'ich  eva  side  dey  on, 
dey  ain'  g\vine  cotch  dis  nigger  nappin'  t'  night.  I 
mistrusses  'em,  I  does,  Miss  Aggy." 

Agnes  smiled  incredulously.  Jim  could  not  see  the 
smile,  nor  be  wounded  by  the  incredulity.  She  rocked 


154  THE  NE  w  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

in  silence,  taking  a  fitful  interest  in  speculating  as  to 
the  nearness  of  the  next  flash  of  lightning.  Jim's  snor- 
ing was  soon  added  to  the  other  voices  of  the  night, 
and  pretty  soon  he  collapsed  into  a  shapeless  mass  on 
the  floor.  Agnes  left  her  chair  long  enough  to  get  a 
blanket  and  throw  it  over  the  huge  recumbent  form. 
Then,  with  folded  hands,  she  resumed  her  silent  watch. 
The  night  moved  on  apace.  The  rain  ceased  and  the 
wind  subsided.  A  few  stars  struggled  feebly  irto  sight 
between  the  rifts  in  the  cloud-rack.  The  frogs  began 
to  croak  in  noisy  convention  from  each  swollen  slough 
in  the  fields.  The  waves  broke  in  slower  wrath  and  at 
wearied  intervals  against  the  levee.  The  harsh-voiced 
clock  made  itself  heard  for  the  first  time  in  several 
hours,  as  it  sent  eleven  loud  strokes  out  on  the  death- 
like stillness  of  the  house.  But  Agnes  was  still  intensely 
wide  awake.  She  strained  her  eyes  into  the  darkness 
with  an  unaccountable  sense  of  expectancy.  The  reg- 
ular beating  sound  of  far-away  oars  came,  muffled  by 
distance,  to  her  strained  ears.  With  hands  clasped  over 
her  breast  she  stole  to  the  end  of  the  gallery  to  listen. 
Slowly,  rhythmically,  positively,  they  dipped  into  the 
water,  feathered  its  surface,  and  thudded  against  the 
rowlocks.  Nearer,  clearer,  closer,  until  the  sound  of 
the  water  rippling  away  from  the  bow  mingled  with 
the  regular  dip  of  the  oars.  She  bent  over  and 
touched  Jim  on  the  shoulder. 
"Jim!" 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  1 55 

She  called  once,  twice,  thrice,  with  increasing  eager- 
ness and  loudness  every  time.  He  sprang  into  wide- 
awake activity  at  last  with  startling  suddenness. 
"  What  is  it,  missy?  Don'  you  be  skeered.  I  ain'  got 
no  sleep  in  my  eyes  dis  night.  Go  to  bed,  Miss  Aggy, 
Jim  ain'  gwine  let  nuffin  pester  you." 

"  Jim,  don't  you  hear  oars?     Listen." 

He  was  alert  enough  now.  He  listened  for  a  fleet 
second,  then  grasped  the  stout  club  he  had  laid  on  the 
front  steps,  and  gathered  his  buttonless  coat  close 
about  him. 

"  Yas  'm  !  Oars,  en  no  mistake.  You  won'  be  skeert 
if  I  leaves  you,  missy  ?  dey  don't  mean  no  hurt  t'  you, 
ennyhow  ;  it's  de  levee  dey'satter.  I'sebleedged  to  go 
t'  de  ole  syc'more?  Dem  Rowan  w'ite  folks  is  got  a 
grudge  gin  de  squire,  an*  dey  ain'  none  too  good  t' 
crope  over  here  an'  cut  his  levee." 

"  Go,  never  mind  me." 

Agnes  spoke  with  imperious  abruptness.  With  the 
stealthy  tread  of  a  sleuth-hound  Jim  passed  out  of  her 
sight.  The  old  sycamore  tree  was  twenty-five  yards 
below  the  house.  The  levee  was  lower  and  narrower 
there  than  at  any  other  point.  Agnes  listened  with 
every  nerve  a-quiver.  The  sound  of  the  oars  was  above 
the  house.  If  Jim  had  gone  to  the  tree  he  was  either 
ignorantly  traveling  away  from  the  sound  or  was  try- 
ing to  get  to  the  weak  point  in  advance.  Perhaps, 
after  all,  it  was  only  a  passing  skiff.  Perhaps,  again,  it 


156  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

was  some  one  bent  on  her  husband's  destruction.  She 
lighted  a  lamp  and  looked  for  the  pistol  her  husband 
had  spoken  of.  She  found  it,  and  throwing  a  large 
shawl  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  stepped  out  into 
the  sullen  stillness  of  the  night.  With  instinctive 
daintiness  she  gathered  her  long  skirts  up  in  one  hand, 
and  stole  out  toward  the  direction  of  those  beating 
oars,  with  a  sudden  courage  born  of  desperation.  She 
mounted  the  crown  of  the  levee,  with  her  gathered 
skirts  in  one  hand  and  the  loaded  pistol  in  the  other. 
She  knew  quite  well  how  to  handle  it.  She  had  often 
fired  at  a  mark  with  her  brother,  for  "  the  fun  of  it." 
She  stood  as  motionless  as  a  carven  image.  She  would 
have  a  pair  of  wet  feet  for  her  pains  if  the  boat  passed 
her  post.  The  sound  of  the  oars  now  fell  with  deadly 
distinctness  on  her  ears  closer  and  closer,  until  they 
ceased  suddenly  immediately  in  front  of  her.  By  the 
vague  starlight  she  could  see  a  man  leap  from  the  skiff 
with  a  long  and  dark  something  in  his  hand.  Of 
course  it  could  be  nothing  but  a  spade  with  which  to 
cut  the  levee.  Her  husband  and  Manton  Craycraft 
were  miles  away.  She  dared  not  call  for  Jim,  her  fem- 
inine voice  would  betray  the  weakness  of  the  garrison. 
The  man  lifted  the  dark  something,  and  was  about  to 
bring  it  down  with  force  upon  the  frail  levee.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  frighten  him  from  his  evil 
work.  A  slight  arm  resolutely  raised— a  determined 
finger  upon  a  fatally  responsive  trigger — a  flash — a 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  157 

groan — and — the  frightened  garrison  sped  with  wild 
haste  back  to  the  deserted  house. 

The  report  of  the  pistol  brought  Jim  speedily  back 
to  his  mistress's  presence.  He  found  her  standing  over 
the  lighted  lamp,  staring  at  the  pistol  she  had  thrown 
upon  the  table.  She  was  white  to  the  lips  and  shivered 
as  with  cold.  Her  teeth  chattered  as  she  called  him  to 
her  side. 

"  Jim,  I  have  killed  some  one  !  Go — look — for — it — 
there  on  the  bank  !  " 

With  a  terrified  exclamation,  Jim  seized  his  lantern 
and  rushed  in  the  direction  indicated.  He  promptly 
returned.  Agnes  turned  her  wildly  pleading  eyes  on 
his  face. 

"  You  ain'  done  nuthin'  uv  de  kin',  Miss  Aggy. 
You's  just  showed  yo'  pluck.  I  hear  'em  a-rowin'  'way 
sorter  slow,  wid  one  oar,  jes'  lak  a  duck  wid  one  wing 
broked.  You  ain'  done  a  bit  uv  mischief.  You's  jes 
give  some  ov  dem  Rowan  raskils  big  'nuff  skeer  to  keep 
'em  ter  dey  own  side." 

"But  the  groan!  Did  you  find  nothing,  Jim — see 
nothing?" 

"  Spec'  you  gin  'em  a  scratch,  mebbe.  It's  mos'  day- 
broke  now,  missy,  an'  ef  you  don't  go  t'sleep,  you 
gwine  be  sick,  'deed  you  is.  Wen  folks  is  kilt  dey 
can't  git  inter  a  skiff,  an'  row  deyseff  off.  You  mout's 
well  sot  yo'  min'  t'rest  'bout  dat.  Now,  do,  my  missy, 
go  to  bed,  jes  fur  t'please  ole  Jim !  " 


1 5 8  THE  NE W  MA N  AT  ROSSMERE. 

Agnes  shivered,  and  turned  away  toward  her  bed- 
room. She  stopped  at  the  door,  to  say  again  :  "  Jim, 
are  you  sure  ?  I  heard  him — groan." 

"  He  wuz  wuss  skeert  than  hurt,  missy.  I  lay 
we  hears  uv  some  nigger  wid  his  arm  in  a  sling 
t'-morrer." 

She  went  away  from  him  more  comforted  by  the 
cheerful  chuckle  that  supplemented  Jim's  opinion  -than 
by  the  words  themselves.  She  was  sleeping  heavily 
from  extreme  exhaustion,  when,  an  hour  or  two  later, 
Squire  Thorn  and  Manton  Craycraft  returned  to  the 
house,  their  night-watch  over. 

Manton  Craycraft's  arm  was  bound  up  in  his  own 
and  the  squire's  handkerchief.  He  stopped  on  the 
threshold  of  the  bedroom  to  which  his  host  immedi- 
ately led  the  way,  and  leaned  against  the  door,  while  a 
spasm  of  pain  contracted  the  muscles  of  his  face. 

"We've  had  a  devil  of  a  night  of  it.  I'd  like  to  get 
a  surgeon  as  soon  as  possible.  Your  trees  are  more 
dangerous  in  death  than  in  life.  I  suppose  the  one 
that  fell  across  my  arm  must  have  had  its  roots  loosened 
by  the  washing  away  of  the  soil.  It's  a  wonder  it 
didn't  swamp  me  entirely.  How  near  is  your  nearest 
sawbones?" 

"Just  up  to  village,  three  miles  off.  Jim  jumped 
right  into  the  skiff  as  we  got  out  of  it,  and  he'll  have 
him  as  soon  as  oars  can  fetch  him.  Can't  I  do  some- 
thin'  for  you  meantime  ?  I  feel  purty  bad  cut  up  to 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  159 

think  all  this  trouble  come  on  you  while  you  was  a- 
doin'  me  a  good  Uirn." 

"  Nothing.  The  arm's  broken  above  the  elbow,  I'm 
sure  of  that !  Good  thing  it's  the  left  one.  By  the 
way,  don't  say  any  thing  to  make  Mrs.  Thorn  uncom- 
fortable. Women  take  every  thing  so  tragically.  A 
broken  arm  is  only  a  degree  short  of  a  broken  neck 
with  them." 

"  You  are  every  inch  a  man,  Craycraft,"  the  squire 
said,  enthusiastically,  as  he  assisted  the  wounded  man 
off  with  his  clothes,  and  prepared  the  bed  for  him. 
"  Considerin'  you  got  hurt  in  my  service,  she  an'  me's 
boun'  to  see  you  through  your  siege  as  far  as  we  can 
make  you  comfortable.  Now  then,  I'll  go  and  stir  Lucy 
up.  I  don't  believe  you  can  sleep,  and  some  good  hot 
coffee  is  next  best  thing  I  can  think  of." 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  upon  him,  Manton  rose 
from  the  bed  on  which  he  had  thrown  himself,  and 
passed  through  the  door  that  connected  it  with  the  sit- 
ting-room. It  was  there  that  the  desk  stood  where  the 
squire  kept  his  pistols.  On  the  center  table,  where 
stood  the  lamp  still  burning  smokily  in  the  broad  light 
of  day,  was  the  pistol,  with  one  empty  chamber.  He 
secreted  it  on  his  person,  and  hastily  placed  in  the 
writing-desk  drawer  its  mate,  full  cartridged,  as  he  had 
taken  it  with  him  the  evening  previous.  This  done,  he 
wearily  threw  himself  back  on  the  bed,  and  closed  his 
eyes.  But  the  pain  of  his  tightly-bandaged  arm  would 


160  THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

not  let  him  sleep.  Presently  a  low,  musical  laugh 
broke  audibly  from  his  white  lips,  and  his  eyes  flashed 
as  if  in  admiration  for  some  deed  of  heroism. 

"  By  George,  it  was  a  spirited  thing  to  do.  Pretty 
rough  usage  though,  considering  my  errand.  As  God 
is  my  witness,  I  wanted  to  make  sure  of  her  safety  in 
this  howling,  uncivilized  wilderness — only  that  and 
nothing  more! " 

Squire  Thorn  thought  his  guest's  insistence  on  seeing 
his  doctor  alone  rather  unreasonable,  but  was  compelled 
to  submit.  He  remained  only  long  enough  to  explain 
volubly  to  the  surgeon  how  his  friend  Mr.  Craycraft, 
who  had  watched  the  levee  with  him  the  night  before, 
had  gotten  in  the  skiff  at  his  ash-slough  gate,  purposing 
to  survey  the  coast-line  between  that  and  the  house,  to 
make  sure  none  of  the  Rowan  people  were  abroad  on 
evil  errands,  and  how,  not  knowing  the  bank  very  well, 
he  had  hugged  it  a  little  too  close,  and  how  a  sapling, 
uprooted  and  loosened  by  the  storm,  fell  across  the  skiff, 
striking  Mr.  Craycraft's  arm  and  breaking  it ;  how  he 
had  rowed  back  on  one  oar  and,  as  soon  as  day  had 
broken,  and  two  of  the  boys  had  come  on  watch,  he 
brought  Craycraft  to  the  house  in  a  skiff. 

At  which  point  in  his  statement  Manton  impatiently 
requested  his  departure.  As  soon  as  he  was  alone  with 
his  surgeon  Manton  said  : 

"  I  might  as  well  give  you  the  truth,  and  tell  you  why 
I  withhold  it  from  the  squire.  There's  a  ball  in  my  arm, 


A  HIT  IN  THE  DARK.  161 

doctor.  I  was  patrolling  and  I  did  get  this  ball  most 
unexpectedly ;  but  I'm  not  fond  of  sensational  stories 
and  don't  propose  to  be  made  the  hero  of  one.  If  Mrs. 
Thorn  here,  for  instance,  was  to  know  I'd  had  a  ball 
put  in  me  while  on  levee  duty,  she  would  be  taking  it 
into  her  head  that  her  husband  was  in  hourly  danger  of 
his  life.  I  don't  see  how  the  women  in  this  country 
contrive  to  exist,  anyway.  Mrs.  Thorn,  I  believe,  is 
new  to  it  yet." 

"  It's  very  thoughtful  of  you,  I'm  sure.  Things  are 
pretty  rough  about  here,  there's  no  denying.  Our 
women-folk  on  the  plantations  do  have  a  deal  to  stand, 
there's  no  doubt  about  it.  They  need  hearts  of  oak  and 
nerves  of  steel  to  carry  them  through." 

"  Better  combination  yet  would  be  nerves  of  steel  and 
hearts  of  ice,"  says  Craycraft,  with  a  queer  smile,  winc- 
ing as  the  doctor  pressed  his  probe  ruthlessly  home  in 
search  for  the  ball.  Then  physical  suffering  shut  out 
every  other  consideration  for  a  little  while. 

When  Agnes  awoke  it  was  to  be  confronted  by  her 
husband  with  an  excited  recital  of  Craycraft's  mishap. 
She  listened  in  dazed  silence.  Her  first  act  on  leaving 
her  own  room  was  to  look  for  the  pistol  where  she  had 
thrown  it.  It  was  not  on  the  table.  She  opened  the  writ- 
ing-desk drawer.  It  lay  there  as  if  it  had  never  been  dis- 
turbed. She  carefully  turned  the  revolving  cylinder. 
Every  chamber  was  full.  She  had  dreamed  it  all,  then. 
She  saw  Jim  coming  up  the  walk  with  the  skiff  oars, 


1 62  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

which  always  lay  in  the  front  gallery  when  not  in  use. 
She  walked  out  to  where  he  stood.  She  looked  white 
and  worn. 

"Jim,  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"  Mornin'  Miss  Aggy.     Is  you  dun  ressid  ?  " 

"Jim,  did  I  dream  it?"  Her  voice  went  out  to  him 
in  a  cautious  undertone. 

"  Did  yer  dreamp  w'at,  Miss  Aggy?  " 

"  That  I  shot  some  one — that  I  fired  a  pistol  last 
night !  " 

Jim  wondered  if  the  frightened  look  in  her  eyes  fore- 
boded "craziness."  Folks  used  to  call  the  Boss's  other 
wife  "  sorter  crazy."  Lies  he  held  were  always  excusa- 
ble if  they  were  of  a  soothing  tendency.  Poor  Jim's 
morals  were  purely  instinctive.  If  a  lie  would  drive 
that  wild  look  out  of  his  beloved  mistress's  eyes,  why 
should  he  hesitate  to  tell  one?  He  did  not  hesitate. 
He  lied  deliberately  and  cheerfully. 

"  Corse  you  dreampt  it  !  What  fur — who  at — you 
gwine  fire  a  pistol  ?  "  he  said  promptly,  and  the  relieved 
look  in  Agnes's  eyes  was  all  the  reward  he  asked. 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

AUNT  NANCY'S  MILLENIUM. 

AB'M!.  Ab'm!  A-bra-him !  Ab'm  Potter!  You 
A-bra-him  Pot — ter  !  " 

In  sharp  staccato  and  ever-increasing  accelerando 
Aunt  Nancy  "Southmead's"  voice  rang  out  upon  the 
noonday  air  from  her  cabin  door,  calling  lustily  for  the 
husband  of  her  bosom,  the  partner  of  her  life,  and  the 
sharer  of  her  woes.  Aunt  Nancy  led  a  dual  life  and 
sustained  a  dual  character.  Let  him  who  is  without 
reproach  in  this  respect  cast  the  first  stone  at  her. 
To  the  family  at  the  "  big  house  "  and  the  sparse  white 
population  of  the  neighborhood  she  was  Aunt  Nancy 
Southmead,  the  best  cook  and  most  reliable  house  ser- 
vant in  the  country.  In  the  "quarters,"  and  to  the 
dense  colored  population  of  the  lake  bed,  she  was  Mrs. 
Ab'm  Potter,  a  lady  of  social  importance,  and  a  person- 
age of  marked  dignity.  The  facts  of  her  husband, 
Abram  Potter,  being  head  of  the  biggest  "squad  "  and 
the  best  "  crapper"  on  the  place,  as  well  as  first  engi- 
neer during  ginning  time,  established  her  social  su- 
premacy beyond  peradventure. 

Aunt  Nancy  had  come  to  years  of  discretion  during 


164  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  reb  times,"  and,  having  always  been  a  favored  and 
petted  servitor,  she  bore  about  in  her  ample  bosom 
nothing  but  loyal  devotion  for  her  "  white  folks."  In 
the  days  of  their  fiery  ordeal  she  was  staunch  and  true. 
When  the  end  came,  and  Aunt  Nancy  was  free  as  the 
wind  to  go  where  she  listed,  she  chose  to  remain  with 
those  who  had  been  good  friends  to  her  in  the  days  of 
her  dependent  slavery,  and  would  be,  she  was  wise 
enough  to  believe,  her  safest  reliance  until  death  did 
them  part.  But  notwithstanding  her  loyalty  to  the 
big  house  and  its  patrician  inmates,  she  derived  a  full 
measure  of  satisfaction  from  being  a  free  woman,  and 
from  the  consciousness  that  the  loyal  service  she  still 
rendered  was  a  matter  of  choice  rather  than  compul- 
sion. In  her  way  she  was  a  shrewd  observer  of  human 
nature,  and  a  philosopher  of  no  mean  pretentions.  In 
her  home  she  was  absolutely  autocratic,  and  seemed  to 
expend  upon  Abram,  the  most  humble  and  inoffensive 
of  spouses,  all  the  possibilities  of  her  nature  in  the 
way  of  tartness,  exasperation,  and  unreasonable  exac- 
tion. 

On  the  occasion  in  question  Aunt  Nancy  impatiently 
pushed  aside  the  intrusive  tendrils  of  a  purple  flower- 
ing bean  that  clambered  luxuriantly  over  her  cabin 
porch,  and  peered  out  in  the  direction  of  the  field 
where  Abram  should  have  been  at  work,  to  ask  impa- 
tiently of  space:  "  Whar  am  dat  nigger?  "  Then,  with 
the  justice  of  human  nature  in  general,  and  of  her  sex 


A  UNT  NANCY'S  MILLENNIUM.  1 65 

in  particular,  she  relieved  the  pressure  upon  her  moral 
system  by  emptying  the  vials  of  her  wrath  upon  the 
objects  nearest  at  hand.  Lucklessly  for  them,  those 
nearest  objects  on  this  occasion  were  Lucifer,  her  first- 
born and  only  son,  Victoria  Meenervy,  her  last  born 
and  only  daughter,  and  "  Cap,"  Abram's  yellow  cur. 
which  he  prized  above  all  earthly  possessions,  next  to 
his  wife  and  dusky  olive  branches. 

'•  You  Vic  !  yer  good-fer-nuthin'  bag  er  bones  !  take 
dat  baskit  an"  gedder  me  a  mess  u'  greens  in  three 
shakes  of  a  sheep's  tail.  Yer  reck'n  I  gwine  work  my 
fingers  t'  de  bones  at  big  house  an'  den  come  down 
here  t'  cook  vittles  fer  you  an'  dat  triflin'  pappy  er  yo'n, 
an'  him  too  owdacious  lazy  to  leave  me  a  stick  er  wood 
cut,  en  you  too  triflin'  ter  pick  de  collards  after  I  done 
growd  em'  fer  ye  !  Cl'ar  out,  fo'  I  slays  yer  'live !  " 

Vic  and  the  basket  were  hurled  out  of  the  cabin  gar- 
denward  with  agility,  and  Mrs.  Potter  turned  her  at- 
tention to  Lucifer,  who  had  fled  from  the  wrath  to 
come  and  hidden  himself  behind  the  water-barrel 
under  the  front  shed  : 

"  You  Luce,  I  sees  yer,  yer  skulkin'  scamp  !  Fotch 
me  some  chips,  boy.  Quick,  too,  ef  yer  knows  wot's 
good  fer  ye.  En  ef  you  don'  have  a  fire  lighted  under 
de  po'k  pot  by  de  time  Vic  gits  back  wid  dem  greens, 
why,  all  I'se  got  to  say  is,  I'll  be  sorry  fer  you — mouty 
sorry,  boy." 

Lucifer   disappeared  in  Vic's  wake,  and  Cap,  with 


1 66  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

that  subtle  animal  instinct  which  stands  the  brute 
creation  in  good  stead  of  man's  boasted  reasoning 
faculties,  slowly  rose  from  his  recumbent  position 
under  the  bed,  tucked  his  tail  apologetically  between 
his  legs,  and,  keeping  one  cautious  eye  upon  the 
enemy,  sidled  judiciously  toward  the  door. 

"  Yer'd  better,"  Aunt  Nancy  said,  in  recognition  of 
this  strategic  move  on  Cap's  part ;  then,  having  routed 
the  entire  garrison,  she  applied  herself  in  silence  to 
putting  Abram's  pork  on  to  boil,  his  corn  cake  in  the 
covered  skillet  to  bake,  and  to  fishing  out  of  the  open 
molasses  jug  on  the  table  some  half-dozen  or  more 
flies,  that  had  rashly  courted  death  in  its  black  and 
sticky  depths. 

This  done,  Aunt  Nancy  took  down  a  cow's  horn  that 
hung  over  the  low  cabin  door,  and  blew  a  blast  that 
would  have  excited  spasms  of  envy  in  Roderick  Dhu's 
breast,  could  that  immortal  hero  but  have  heard  it, 

"Wot  in  de  name  uv  de  nashun  is  yer  makin'  sech  a 
rackit  'bout,  ole  woman?  Yer's  ben  a  yelpin'  an' 
a-gwine  on  wuss  den  Cap  do  w'en  he  git  in  a  bumbly 
bee  nes'." 

Abram's  answer  to  this  last  summons  was  given  in  a 
low,  mild  voice,  so  immediately  under  her  nose  that 
Aunt  Nancy  was  covered  with  that  sudden  sense  of 
foolishness  that  overcomes  us  all  when  we  find  our 
exertions  quite  superfluous  for  the  occasion.  She 
dropped  the  horn,  and  laughed  aimlessly. 


A  UN T  NANCY'S  MILLENNIUM.  1 6 7 

"  Ef  yer'd  ben  civil  'nuff  ter  answer  befo',  'twouldn't 
'a'  hurted  you,  nor  a  sot  me  back  enny,"  she  said, 
hanging  the  horn  up  again  by  its  twine  string,  and 
mopping  her  face  with  her  apron. 

"  Den  der  would  'a'  ben  two  fool  niggers  a-yelpin" 
'stead  er  one,"  said  Abram,  with  a  grin,  after  which  he 
sniffs  toward  the  cabin  very  much  as  Cap  might  have 
done,  to  ask  :  "  Is  de  vittles  ready  ?  " 

"  Not  yit.  Dem  triflin'  young  'uns  had'n'  so  much 
as  fotch  me  a  pail  uv  water  w'en  I  got  yere.  But  I 
made  'em  hump  deyseff,  I  did.  An'  it  would'n'  'a' 
hurted  you  ter  lef  me  some  wood  cut  up,  dat  it 
would'n'." 

"  Wot  fur  yer  hustle  me  up  so  den  ?  "  Abram  asked, 
throwing  himself  for  his  noonday  rest  in  a  recumbent 
position  on  a  carpenter's  bench  that  stood  under  the 
big  gum  tree  shading  his  cabin. 

"  Well,  ole  man,  I  laks  fer  ter  have  a  chance  to  talk 
ter  yer  'tween  whiles,"  says  Aunt  Nancy,  with  wifely 
cajolery.  "  Yer's  so  sleepy-headed  er  nights  dar  ain' 
no  satisfaction  in  tryin'  to  tell  yer  nuthin'." 

"  Is  yer  got  any  thin'  to  tell  me  now  ?  "  Abram  asks, 
practically. 

Aunt  Nancy  retreated  to  the  interior  of  the  cabin 
long  enough  to  throw  a  lapful  of  greens,  which  she  had 
stemmed  in  violent  haste,  into  the  pot  where  the 
family  ration  of  pork  was  already  bobbing  and  bub- 
bling greasily,  took  a  peep  at  the  corn  pone  in  the 


1 68  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

covered  skillet,  piled  a  few  fresh  coals  on  the  lid  of  it, 
and  came  back  to  the  open  doorway  to  say,  with 
solemn  positiveness : 

"Abram,  de  mellenyium's  done  come." 

"  Wot  you  say,  ole  woman  ? "  Abram  sleepily 
opened  his  eyes  at  this  remarkable  assertion. 

"  De  mellenyium  done  come  !  "  Aunt  Nancy  repeats, 
in  a  voice  of  conviction. 

"  Who  done  tole  you  so  ?  "  Abram  asks,  sitting  bolt 
upright,  with  an  eagerness  in  voice  and  eye  which 
nothing  short  of  news  from  the  celestial  kingdom  could 
have  evoked  from  his  stolid  soul. 

"  Nobody  didn*  tole  me.  I  done  see  it  myself  wid 
dese  ve'y  eyes  uv  mine.  De  lyin  and  de  lam'  a-layin' 
down  t'gedder." 

"Whar,  Nancy?" 

Abram  sprang  from  the  carpenter's  bench  and  stood 
erect,  giving  a  vigorous  hitch  to  his  suspenders,  as  if 
preparing  on  a  moment's  notice  to  take  any  part  that 
might  be  assigned  him  in  propagating  the  glad 
tidings. 

"  Leastways,"  says  Aunt  Nancy,  with  anti-climax 
composure,  "  ef  I  ain'  see  de  lyin  an'  de  lam'  a-layin' 
down  t'gedder,  I'se  seen  de  nex'  thing  to  it." 

"Wot's  dat,  Nancy?"  There  is  a  falling  inflection  in 
Abram's  voice. 

"  I  see  Mr.  Major  Denny,  which  he  air  a  Yankee 
genTman,  yer  knows,  Ab'm,  an'  our  Miss  Sulie,  which 


A  UNT  NANCY'S  MILLENNIUM.  169 

she  air  de  widder  uv  a  reb  soldier  which  were  killed  by 
de  Yankee  gen'l'men,  a  ridin'  off  t'gedder  this  mornin', 
him  on  dat  black  hoss  which  steps  sorter  proud,  lak  he 
was  set  up  kase  he's  totin'  uv  de  major  about,  an'  Miss 
Sulie  on  a  purty  little  roan  mar'  his  boy  Alf  rid  over 
on.  An'  dey  look  jes'  as  happy  as  we'll  all  look  in  de 
golding  hours  uv  de  millenyium  in  de  kingdom  come." 

"  W'ich  were  de  lyin  'n'  w'ich  were  de  lam',  ole 
woman?"  Abram  asks,  disgustedly  preparing  to  piece 
out  his  broken  nap — "de  major's  black  hoss  or  Miss 
Sulie's  roan  mar'?" 

"  An'  I  tell  yer  wot,  ole  man,"  Nancy  continues,  waiv- 
ing this  frivolous  interruption.  "  I  kin  see  through  a 
hole  in  de  grin'stone  as  well  as  de  bes*  uv  yer.  Wen 
de  black  hoss  en  dat  roan  gets  to  travelin'  in  company, 
somepun  gwine  to  turn  up." 

"  Dat  ole  black  hoss  was  raised  by  one  uv  de  wuss 
en'mies  Mars  George  Soufmead  ever  had,"  Abram  says, 
reflectively  and  irrelevantly. 

"  Dat's  wot  I  ben  tellin'  yer,"  says  Aunt  Nancy,  in 
illogical  triumph.  "  Den  yer  see  de  finger  uv  Provy- 
dince  in  it  all,  Ab'm,  jes'  es  plain  es  de  nose  on  er  man's 
face?  God  bless  our  Miss  Sulie  !  She's  wuff  us  all  b'iled 
inter  one.  But  won'  dis  nigger  mek  her  a  wedd'n'  cake 
dat'll  take  de  rag  off' n  de  bush  !  " 

"  Go  slow,  ole  woman,  er  yer  mout  run  over 
yo'seff.  Slow  en  sure.  Nancy,  which  way  did  dey 
trav'l  ?  " 


1 70  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"Straight  up  de  lake  todes  ole  Squire  Thorn's." 

"  Thar's  trubble  at  de  squire's."  Abram  imparts  this 
bit  of  news  placidly. 

"  Trubble.  En  wot  sort,  ole  man?" 

"Jim  Doakes,  he  come  a-rowin'  by  so  y'arly  dis 
mornin',  jes'  as  I  wen'  down  t'  lake  t'  look  at  my  water 
mark  for  de  fuss  time  sence  las'  night,  an'  I  ups  an* 
axed  him  wot  his  hurry  was.  En  he  tole  me  he  was 
gwine  fur  de  doctor  fur  de  major's  frien',  which  was 
laid  up  wid  a  hurt  at  dey  house." 

"  Wot  sorter  hurt  ?  "  Nancy  asks,  anxiously. 

"  That's  all  I  gott'n  outer  him.  Ef  Jim  knowed  enny 
mo'  he  wa'n'  gwine  t'  let  on.  Jim's  one  er  yer  close- 
moufed  niggers,  any  way  yer  tak'  him." 

This  hint  of  sorrow  and  pain  so  close  at  hand  caused 
Aunt  Nancy  to  suddenly  revise  her  opinion  concerning 
the  close  proximity  of  the  millennium. 

"Abram,"  she  said,  pensively  fishing  the  collards 
dripping  with  hot  grease  from  the  pork  pot,  "  these  air 
tryin'  times.  Wot  wid  de  ribber  er  knockin*  at  de  do' 
lak  it  was  boun'  t'  git  in  en  swaller  us  all  up  wedder  er 
no  ;  an'  de  w'ite  folks  seemin'  lak  dey  done  los'  dergrip 
on  ev'y  thing  dey  used  to  own  ;  en  strange  w'ite  folks 
gitt'n'  knocked  up  musteerus  lak  es  you  tole  me  'bout 
dis  frien'  uv  de  new  man  at  Rossmere,  dar's  no  knowin' 
wot  evil  days  is  in  sto'  fur  us  yet." 

"  Yer's  right,  ole  woman,  mouty  right,"  Abram  says, 
attacking  the  pork  his  wife  has  placed  before  him  with 


AUNT  NANCY'S  MILLENNIUM.  1 7 1 

co-responsive  gravity,  "  but  de  Lord,  He  hoi's  us  all  in 
de  holler  uv  His  han's." 

"  He  do,  praise  be  His  name  forever  en  forever,  amen! 
Dem  pesky  flies  done  got  inde  'lasses 'gin.  Hyer,  you 
Vic,  go  bre'k  a  lim'  off'n  dat  mulberry  saplin'  en  come 
keep  de  flies  off'n  yo'  pappy  w'ile  he  eats  his  vittles." 
And  while  Vic  kept  the  flies  off  her  pappy,  Aunt  Nancy 
righted  things  up  before  returning  to  her  house  duties, 
and  Abram  made  alarming  inroads  into  the  pork  and 
greens  which  Cap  and  Lucifer  eyed  hungrily  from  a 
distance.  And  Stirling  Denny  and  Mrs.  Ralston  rode 
slowly  through  the  cool  and  fragrant  woods,  utterly 
unconscious  of  the  wild  speculations  this  ride  of  theirs 
had  given  rise  to  down  at  the  "  quarters." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A     MO  RNING     RIDE. 

A  MORNING  of  serene  loveliness  had  succeeded 
to  the  bluster  and  gloom  of  the  previous  night. 
It  was  as  if  nature  smiled  apologetically  for  her  naughty 
raging  of  the  night  just  gone.  The  intense  blue  of  the 
sky  overhead  was  reflected  on  the  broad  expanse  of 
the  glittering  lake,  which,  though  high  enough  to  send 
the  crest  of  a  wave  slopping  over  any  depression  in  the 
surface  of  the  levee,  now  lay  as  calm  and  seemingly 
harmless  as  a  sleeping  child. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Ursula,  as  the  bridle-path 
turned  abruptly  away  from  the  lake  to  plunge  into  the 
shadowy  depths  of  the  forest,  "  it  is  a  relief  to  me  to 
lose  sight  of  that  lake.  There  is  a  horrible  fascination 
about  the  water  in  its  present  threatening  aspect  that 
keeps  one's  nerves  in  a  painfully  tense  condition.  But 
in  here  " — she  waved  her  riding  whip  comprehensively 
around — "  one  becomes  oblivious  of  watery  perils,  past 
or  probable.  There  is  something  so  restful,  so  peace- 
ful, in  the  fragrant  stillness  of  these  woods." 

"  Many  such  seasons  of  anxiety  as  the  present  would 
place  us  all  in  a  position  to  appreciate  the  excellence  of 


A  MORNING  RIDE.  173 

the  eternal  hills.  If  we  can  only  hold  out  for  a  few 
days  longer,  relief  will  come.  The  rivers  above  are  all 
falling,  and  the  fall  certainly  must  have  reached  Mem- 
phis by  this  time." 

"  '  If  we  can  only  hold  out.'  Then  we  are  not  secure 
now?  You  do  not  feel  quite  sure  of  the  levee  ?  " 

'Sula  turned  an  anxious  face  toward  her  companion. 
He  had  borne  such  a  brave  front,  had  seemed  at  times 
so  absolutely  free  from  care,  that  she  had  taken  his 
outward  bearing  as  an  indication  of  perfect  inward 
security.  The  major  flushed  with  annoyance  at  having 
carelessly  aroused  her  ready  fears.  He  turned  toward 
her  with  a  re-assuring  smile. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Ralston,  there  is  a  wise  old  saw  that 
advises  against  hallooing  before  one  is  out  of  the 
woods.  We  are  not  yet  quite  out  of  the  woods,  that 
is  all.  Literally  speaking,  it  is  so  delightful  in  them 
this  morning  that  one  does  not  feel  like  hurrying 
through  them,  even  for  the  privilege  of  hallooing. 
Listen !  was  there  ever  a  sweeter,  more  varied,  or 
more  inimitable  songster  than  that  mocking-bird  ?  " 

"  I  love  our  mocking-birds,"  'Sula  says,  warmly, 
"  they  are  so  peculiarly  and  entirely  our  own." 

"  Then  a  thing  must  of  necessity  be  racy  of  the  soil 
before  it  can  hope  to  rank  high  in  your  estimation," 
Stirling  says,  energetically  decapitating  some  tall  coffee 
weeds  with  his  riding-whip. 

"  Things,  perhaps,   but  not  people,"  'Sula  answers, 


174  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

with  a  bright,  sidewise  look  at  him.  "  I  like  to  think 
we  have  some  few  distinctive  features  not  open  to  cen- 
sure ;  something  that  we  can  love  loyally  and  exclu- 
sively, without  endangering  our  reputation  for  loyalty 
to  the  best  government  the  world  ever  saw.  Having 
no  institutions  that  can  give  us  a  desirable  individual- 
ity, I  am  taking  refuge  in  our  birds  'and  flowers.  A 
sort  of  harmless  boastfulness  makes  me  think  we  shall 
always  retain  our  supremacy  -there." 

"  The  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  South  will  be 
able  to  boast  a  healthy  supremacy  in  very  many  more 
important  respects.  The  fact  that  she  is  getting  into 
position  to  realize  some  benefit  from  her  hitherto 
unsuspected  resources  is  matter  for  fraternal  rejoicing 
to  all  right-thinking  men." 

*'  I  sometimes  think,"  says  'Sula,  despondently,  "  that 
more  than  one  generation  will  have  to  pass  away  before 
there  will  be  any  appreciable  improvement  in  matters. 
Our  men  cling  so  tenaciously  to  traditionary  ways  of 
doing  every  thing.  They  must  have  a  precedent  for 
every  move.  The  majority  of  our  precedents  are  not 
worth  the  preserving.  There  seems  to  prevail  a  uni- 
versal tendency  to  let  well  enough  alone,  which  virtu- 
ally consists  in  letting  ill  enough  alone.  I  don't  like 
to  feel  so  dissatisfied  with  my  own  people  ;  but  the 
happy-go-lucky  way  of  doing  things  which  carried  our 
planters  safely  enough  over  the  smooth  waters  of  ante- 
bellum times  is  but  a  sorry  dependence  for  the  boys 


A  MORNING  RIDE.  175 

now  approaching  manhood,  with  nothing  but  their  own 
untrained  faculties  to  depend  upon.  Fred,  for  instance 
— his  prospects  for  success  or  usefulness  in  the  world 
are  slender  indeed." 

"  I  have  wished  very  much  to  have  the  boy  more 
with  me.  I  think  I  could  be  of  some  little  service  to 
him.  He  is  too  dreamy,  too  given  to  brooding  rather 
than  resolving.  But,"  the  major  hesitated,  "  I  doubt 
his  mother's  cordial  approval.  Listen  ! "  With  an 
entire  change  of  voice,  he  uttered  this  word,  drawing 
rein  so  suddenly  that  the  Black  Prince  was  thrown  on 
his  haunches. 

A  low,  soft,  gurgling  sound,  as  of  water  percolating 
through  an  obstruction,  came  to  their  ears  through  the 
strip  of  woodland  that  hid  the  levee  from  their  sight. 
To  'Sula's  experienced  ears  the  sound  was  full  of  men- 
ace. Major  Denny  suddenly  dismounted,  and  secured 
his  horse  to  the  nearest  tree-branch. 

"  One  moment,  please ;  I  must  examine  into  this." 
Then  he  went  crashing  through  the  briers  and  under- 
brush toward  the  sound,  leaving  'Sula  trembling  with 
apprehension,  but  outwardly  composed.  She  would 
gladly  have  followed  him  through  the  brush  and  briers, 
for  waiting  in  suspense  is  the  hardest  of  all  burdens  to 
bear,  but  by  remaining  in  the  saddle  she  would,  if  it 
proved  necessary,  be  in  position  to  summon  aid  all  the 
quicker.  A  lusty  halloo  came  to  her  presently  in 
Major  Denny's  voice. 


1 76  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  XOSSMERE. 

"  Shall  I  come  to  you  ?  "  she  called  back,  nervously. 

"Immediately.      You    can  not    ride    through    the 
bushes.     Dismount.     Lose  no  time." 

Quickly  and  unhesitatingly  she  obeyed  his  directions, 
first  securing  her  horse  to  a  limb,  then  gliding  to  the 
ground  with  the  ease  of  a  practiced  horsewoman. 
Gathering  her  long,  cumbersome  skirts  closely  in  both 
hands,  she  ran  rather  than  walked  in  the  direction  of 
his  voice.  When  she  came  in  sight  of  him  her  heart 
bounded  with  tumultuous  alarm.  Only  his  head  and 
shoulders  were  visible  above  the  briery  brink  of  a  ditch 
known  locally  as  the  Thorndale  Big  Ditch.  They  were 
now  on  Squire  Thorn's  land.  This  ditch,  which  under 
normal  conditions  drained  his  place  into  the  lake,  had 
been  leveed  over  at  its  mouth,  as  soon  as  the  lake  had 
reached  the  danger  line.  Through  this  freshly  made 
levee  the  water  was  now  running  in  a  stream  which, 
insignificant  at  present,  was  fraught  with  peril  to 
the  entire  bed  of  the  lake  if  not  immediately 
checked. 

With  difficulty  'Sula  made  her  way  to  the  edge  of 
the  ditch.  The  brambles  on  the  thick-growing  dew- 
berry bushes  caught  her  heavy  woolen  riding  skirt  in 
thorny  clutches,  which  she  loosened  with  fierce  impa- 
tience, reckless  as  to  the  preservation  of  a  garment  in 
which  heretofore  she  had  taken  no  small  amount  of 
pride.  Her  untried  feet,  in  their  thin-soled  shoes,  car- 
ried her  unsatisfactorily  over  the  rough  and  rubbish- 


A  MORNING  RIDK  177 

strewn  ground.  When  she  reached  the  point  of  danger 
it  was  to  find  that  Stirling  Denny  had  forced  an  open- 
ing for  himself  in  the  weed-choked  bottom  of  the 
ditch,  and  was  now  standing  ankle  deep  in  the  rain- 
water that  had  fallen  the  night  before  and  had  no  out- 
let. On  the  bank  lay  his  coat,  vest,  hat,  and,  in  the 
crown  of  this  last,  the  entire  contents  of  his  pockets, 
among  them  a  heavy  gold  watch  and  chain  that  glit- 
tered in  the  sunlight.  He  looked  up  at  her  with  anx- 
ious eyes,  but  jesting  lips. 

"  After  all,  I  was  compelled  to  halloo  before  I  was 
out  of  the  woods.  I  was  sorry  to  call  you  to  me,  but  I 
dared  not  lose  sight  of  this  for  a  second.  Nothing  short 
of  criminal  neglect  on  the  part  of  Thorn  and  Craycraft 
would  have  left  such  a  point  unwatched.  I  wanted 
you  to  report  the  danger  accurately,  else  I  should  not 
have  called  you  to  me.  I  will  stay  here  and  ward  off 
the  peril  if  I  can.  You  must  send  me  aid  as  quickly  as 
possible  from  Thorndale.  We  are  three  miles  from  the 
house  yet.  The  ditches  are  all  so  much  alike  you  must 
not  mistake." 

"  No,  oh,  no,  I  won't  mistake  !  "  'Sula  looked  with 
frightened  eyes  from  him  to  the  trickling  water.  As  he 
stood  in  the  ditch  on  the  land  side  of  the  levee,  the 
waters  on  the  outside  of  it  were  a  foot  or  two  higher 
than  his  head.  Should  the  levee  give  way  with  the  sud- 
den and  explosive  force  customary  with  them,  his  posi- 
tion would  prove  fatal.  He  would  be  swept  away 


1 78  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

like  an  autumn  leaf  on  the  rushing  current.  "  How 
can  you  ward  off  this  peril  ?  "  she  asked.  "You  have 
nothing  to  work  with  !  Let  me  stay,  and  you  go  for 
help.  You  can  ride  faster  than  I." 

He  saw  through  the  tender  ruse  to  beguile  him  from 
his  perilous  position,  and  a  smile  of  ineffable  sweetness 
chased  the  anxiety  from  his  grave  eyes  as  they  rested 
on  her  agitated  features. 

"  What  could  you  do,  dear  ?  " 

In  that  moment  of  suppressed  excitement  and 
impending  doom  it  did  not  seem  strange  to  her  that  he 
should  thus  address  her.  It  sounded  simple,  right,  true, 
and  very  sweet. 

"  You  can  not  possibly  get  anyone  here  under  half 
an  hour,"  he  resumed,  hurriedly.  "  In  that  time  much 
might  happen.  There  is  but  one  chance  for  the  levee; 
that  one  chance  I  shall  give  it.  The  danger  increases 
every  second.  Ride  at  your  utmost  speed.  Do  not 
spare  the  roan ;  have  only  a  care  for  her  rider's  neck. 
Wait.  Take  from  my  hat  there  my  papers  and  my 
watch.  If  any  thing — should  happen — keep  the  watch, 
please,  as  a  souvenir  of  your  mortal  foe.  Now  go." 
He  smiled  bravely  up  into  her  pale  face  ;  then,  throw- 
ing himself  prone  upon  his  side,  he  thrust  his  bared 
right  arm  into  the  soft  ooze  of  the  soil  where  the  trick- 
ling stream  ran  through.  'Sula  stretched  her  hands 
over  him  imploringly. 

"  Come  with  me.     The  peril  is  too  great.     Let  those 


A  MORNING  RIDE.  179 

who  have  brought  it  upon  themselves  suffer  for  their 
criminal  neglect." 

"The  women  'and  children  who  would  suffer  the 
most  did  not  bring  it  about.  If  my  right  arm  can 
serve  to  stop  this  leak  until  you  fetch  succor,  it  will 
have  done'loyal  service  for  the  land  you  love.  Every 
second's  delay  increases  the  danger  to  the  levee  and 
to — me." 

His  voice  was  so  steady,  his  eye  so  resolute,  his 
cramped  and  painful  attitude  so  determined  in  its 
sacrificial  heroism,  that  'Sula  felt  her  own  weaker  soul 
roused  to  an  answering  resolution. 

"  Surely  the  good  God  will  not  let  such  self-abnega- 
tion fail  of  its  reward,"  she  murmured  to  herself  as  she 
turned  trembling  away  from  him.  "  He  will  keep  him 
until  I  can  bring  aid." 

Stirling  heard  her,  as  she  hastily  retreated,  unmind- 
ful now  of  the  merciless  briers  that  smote  her  in  the 
face  or  of  the  rough  ground  that  impeded  her  foot- 
steps. He  heard  the  quick  trampling  of  her  horse's 
feet  over  the  short  wooden  bridge  that  spanned  this 
ditch  where  it  crossed  the  road,  then  the  sound  of  her 
rapid  progress  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  he  knew 
that  thirty  long  and  anxious  minutes  at  least,  must 
elapse  before  she  could  possibly  send  him  any  relief. 
In  that  length  of  time  what  might  not  happen?  If  this 
spouting  water,  whose  flow  he  had  checked  by  making 
a  stopper  of  his  arm,  had  been  caused  by  a  recently 


1 80  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

made  craw-fish  hole,  he  might  successfully  ward  off 
danger  until  help  came,  if,  on  the  contrary,  it  had  been 
running  all  night  and  softening  the  interior  of  the  en- 
tire levee,  at  any  moment  the  whole  structure  might 
yield  to  the  tremendous  pressure  of  water  against  it, 
give  way,  and  allow  the  foe  they  had  defied  for  weeks 
to  enter,  making  a  broad  and  desolating  pathway  for 
itself,  sweeping  away  the  hopes  of  hundreds,  and  even 
sweeping  him,  Stirling  Denny,  into  eternity.  On  the 
fleetness  of  a  horse's  feet,  urged  on  by  a  woman's 
trembling  hand,  perhaps,  his  life  was  hanging. 

And  with  this  consciousness  on  her,  too,  Ursula  sped 
through  the  woods,  with  a  white  face  and  an  aching 
heart.  With  whip  and  voice  she  urged  the  roan  for- 
ward, quivering  with  nervousness  as  the  animal's  sharp 
shrill  neighing  rent  the  quiet  air  in  noisy  protest  against 
this  sudden  separation  from  the  Black  Prince.  With 
that  strange  faculty  of  mental  absorption  by  which  we 
take  unconscious  note  of  the  most  trivial  objects  or 
occurrences  during  our  sorest  soul-travail,  she  heard 
the  mocking-birds  answering  each  other  in  tones  of  gay 
defiance;  she  noted  how  thickly  the  wild  blue-bells 
blossomed  along  the  roadside  ;  her  senses  accredited 
the  delightful  fragrance  that  greeted  them  at  a  certain 
turn  in  the  road  to  the  elder-bushes,  whose  lace-like  clus- 
ters she  remembered  were  always  thickest  in  that  spot. 
The  low-hanging  branches  of  a  sycamore  by  the  road- 
side rudely  brushed  the  plume  in  her  riding-hat  as  she 


A  MORNING  RIDE.  181 

galloped  under  them  ;  she  would  certainly  ask  Uncle 
Ephe  to  cut  that  low  branch  away ;  the  touch  of  it 
seemed  to  vibrate  through  her  nerves  for  many  a  day 
after  that  reckless  ride.  Every  faculty  was  on  the 
alert ;  every  sense  was  imbued  with  tenfold  acuteness. 
Yet  she  was  aware  of  no  thought  but  of  the  resolute 
man  she  had  left  behind,  who  might  even  at  that 
moment  be  offering  up  his  precious  life,  a  useless 
sacrifice. 

She  bent  over  in  her  saddle  to  lift  the  clumsy  wooden 
latch  to  the  squire's  pasture  gate.  Two  of  his  plow- 
men, with  bridles  swung  over  their  shoulders,  were 
lazily  approaching  it  from  the  other  side.  She  drew 
rein  directly  across  their  path,  and  said,  with  slow  pre- 
cision, her  own  voice  sounding  unfamiliar  to  her: 

"  Throw  down  those  bridles.  Take  axes  and  spades, 
and  go  as  fast  as  you  possibly  can  to  the  big  ditch, 
where  the  button  willows  grow.  The  levee  is  about 
to  break.  Major  Denny  is  guarding  it  with  his  life. 
He  is  the  best  friend  we  all  have.  If  we  are  saved  it 
will  be  by  him." 

The  stolid  indifference  of  the  men,  who  stood 
motionless  before  her,  irritated  her  into  a  frenzy  of 
impatience.  Her  voice  was  shrill  with  pain  as  she 
asked :  "  What  are  you  standing  there,  staring  at  me 
for?  Why  do  you  not  go — stupid,  ungrateful  things 
that  you  are." 

"  Our  mules  is  out  'n  de  paster,  missy  ;  we  wuz  jes' 


182  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

a  gwine  fur  'em,  an'  I  wuz  a  stud'in'  how  we  could  git 
dar  de  quickiss'.  We'se  got  spades  an'  axes  hid  in  de 
woods  clost  to  dat  ve'y  ditch." 

Ursula  glided  to  the  ground  while  they  were  speak- 
ing. She  pointed  imperiously  to  her  own  empty  sad- 
dle. 

"  Mount,  both  of  you.  Ride  as  fast  as  the  horse 
can  carry  you — if  you  kill  her !  " 

Her  last  words  were  cast  upon  the  vacant  space 
where  a  second  before  the  roan  had  stood,  with  quiv- 
ering flanks  and  dilated  nostrils.  Now  that  she  had 
sent  succor  to  Stirling  Denny,  she  had  time  to  real- 
ize her  own  overwrought  condition.  She  felt  dizzy 
and  faint.  Sinking  upon  the  side  of  the  levee,  she 
bowed  her  head  upon  her  knees,  while  sob  after  sob 
convulsed  her  slender  frame.  She  felt  the  better  for  her 
tears.  Suddenly  she  sprang  to  her  feet  again.  Suppose 
these  stupid  negroes  should  go  to  the  wrong  ditch  ? 
Suppose  they  should  lag  so  in  their  coming  it  would 
be  too  late?  Suppose  Stirling  Denny  was  at  that 
moment  being  overwhelmed  by  the  surging  water? 
She  must  find  Squire  Thorn,  and  send  him  to  the  rescue. 
The  house  was  in  sight ;  a  mile  of  rapid  walking 
and  she  would  be  there.  She  gathered  her  heavy  skirts 
about  her,  and  hastened  forward  on  foot.  She  passed 
a  cabin  door,  where  the  inmates  were  loitering  in  noon- 
day idleness.  Two  men,  stalwart  field  hands,  lay  laz- 
ily stretched,  face  downward,  on  the  gallery  floor,  in 


A  MORNING  HIDE.  183 

friendly  juxtaposition  to  several  dogs.  A  woman,  "in 
unwomanly  rags,"  sat  upon  an  inverted  wash-tub,  giv- 
ing nourishment  to  a  baby  whose  slovenly  appearance 
was  in  keeping  with  its  surroundings  ;  an  old  woman, 
decrepit  from  age,  glanced  up  from  her  task  of  string- 
ing red  peppers  to  send  a  wondering  glance  of  her 
bleared  eyes  after  'Sula,  as  she  swept  swiftly  by  the 
tumble-down  fence  which  barred  this  thriftless  abode 
of  a  thriftless  people  from  the  public  road.  Half  a 
dozen  boys,  ragged,  happy,  and  dirty,  were  playing 
marbles  in  the  rain-beaten  road,  their  faces  beaming 
with  animal  content  and  bacon  grease.  Mrs.  Ralston's 
skirts  sent  their  "  white  taws  "  and  "  china  alleys  "  in 
in  every  direction.  With  good-natured  grins  they 
replaced  them  and  resumed  their  sport.  At  every 
cabin  door,  with  some  slight  variations,  this  grouping 
was  repeated.  The  unthinking  placidity  of  those  dark 
faces  smote  upon  'Sula's  excited  nerves.  She  was  in 
a  frame  of  mind  to  take  issue  with  Providence  on  the 
seeming  lack  of  justice  displayed  in  Its  workings. 
Was  it  for  such  as  these  that  Stirling  Denny's  precious 
life  was  being  jeopardized  ?  They  were  not  worthy  of 
it.  Not  worthy  that  harm  should  come  to  one  hair  of 
his  dear  head.  She  swept  past  the  "quarters,"  followed 
by  many  stolidly  wondering  glances.  She  reached  the 
house  at  last. 

Squire  Thorn  had  just  come  in  from  his  daily  task 
of    watching  his  mules  consume   their  rations    when 


184  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Ursula,  pallid  and  bemired,  stood  before  him  in  the 
doorway  of  his  own  hall.  She  spoke  in  a  voice  of 
querulous  command  : 

"  Go  to  your  willow  ditch.  Your  mortal  foe  is  there 
risking  his  life  to  save  the  levee  you  have  neglected. 
The  levee  across  your  big  ditch  is  about  to  give  way. 
Go." 

Squire  Thorn  needed  no  second  bidding.  Her  news 
was  of  so  alarming  a  character  that  it  did  not  occur  to 
him  to  resent  the  manner  of  its  delivery.  He  was  soon 
clattering  down  the  road  on  old  Whitey.  Agnes,  hear- 
ing a  sharp  feminine  voice  in  excited  monologue  in  the 
hall,  came  out  just  as  'Sula's  overtaxed  system  yielded 
to  the  strain,  and  she  sank,  sobbing  hysterically,  into 
her  hostess's  arms. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  THE    GAP. 

THE  sound  of  the  horse's  retreating  hoofs  had  long 
since  died  away  in  the  distance,  and  Stirling  Den- 
ny's eyes  were  resting  on  the  green  and  shady  woods  that 
closed  in  closely  about  him  with  the  intense  gaze  of  a 
man  who  was  keenly  alive  to  the  peril  he  had  volun- 
tarily involved  himself  in,  and  also  calmly  and  ration- 
ally alert  for  any  chance  of  escape  therefrom.  His 
hearing,  remarkably  acute  at  all  times,  was  rendered 
doubly  so  by  his  present  extremity. 

The  crackling  of  dry  twigs  in  the  distance  was  borne 
to  his  ears.  He  tried  to  decide  by  what  manner  of  ani- 
mal it  might  be  made.  It  was  most  probably  a  cow 
grazing  on  the  tender  cane-shoots,  so  dear  to  the  palate 
of  that  ruminant,  or  a  mule  astray  from  the  plow- 
hands  of  Tievina  or  Thorndale.  There  was  one  chance 
for,  to  a  great  many  against,  its  being  a  human  being. 
The  ditch  that  he  was  guarding  was  in  a  very  lonely 
part  of  the  woods,  between  the  two  places.  The  crack- 
ling of  dry  twigs  came  nearer.  It  had  an  irregular,  halt- 
ing sound.  On  the  one  chance  of  its  being  a  person, 
the  major  sent  a  lusty  "  halloo  "  from  his  damp  couch  in 
the  bottom  of  the  ditch. 


1 86  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

To  his  surprised  pleasure  there  came  back  to  him  in 
a  ringing  voice: 

"  Halloo  yourself?  Where  are  you, and  what  do  you 
want  ?  " 

"  I'm  down  in  the  big  ditch,  and  I  want  to  communi- 
cate with  the  owner  of  that  voice." 

The  undecided,  hesitating  crackling  among  the  dry 
twigs  was  exchanged  for  a  very  decided  sound  of  fast 
running,  which  in  an  incredibly  short  time  brought 
Fred  Southmead's  startled  face  and  wondering  eyes  to 
bear  upon  the  man  in  the  ditch. 

"  Why,  major  !  " 

"Well,  Fred!" 

"  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  "  Fred  leaned  over  the 
brink  to  ask. 

"  Not  reclining  on  a  bed  of  roses,  my  boy,  but,  you 
know,  if 

'  Imperial  Cassar,  dead  and  turned  to  clay, 
May  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away,' 

why  may  not  the  arm  of  a  live  Yankee  serve  an  equally 
useful  end  with  another  one  of  the  elements?  I  am 
stopping  a  hole,  Fred,  in  hopes  of  preventing  further 
damage  to  this  levee  before  help  comes.  Sorry  I'm  not 
in  position  to  take  off  my  hat  to  you." 

"You  take  it  pretty  coolly." 

"  Force  of  circumstances,  my  dear  boy.  Ten  min- 
utes ago  I  doubt  if  I  could  have  afforded  a  jest  at  my 
own  expense,  but  I'm  pretty  well  convinced  that  it  is  a 


IN  THE  GAP.  187 

craw-fish  hole,  and,  although  not  relieved,  I  am  not  as 
badly  scared  as  I  was.  I  don't  think  the  levee's  going 
at  a  rush." 

"  Who  has  gone  for  help  ?  I  believe  you  would  jest 
at  your  coffin." 

"  Mrs.  Ralston  has  gone  for  help.  At  it,  probably 
(my  coffin,  I  mean),  but  not  in  it.  You  perceive  I  am 
categorical." 

"  Why  didn't  you  stuff  a  gunny  sack  in  that  hole?  " 

"  One  of  my  most  urgent  requests  was  that  every 
ditch  should  have  sacks  left  near  it.  There  are  none 
here.  It's  a  mistake  of  the  squire's." 

"  Squire  Thorn  was  never  known  to  do  any  thing 
right,"  says  Fred,  with  boyish  vehemence.  "  He  is  an 
embodied  mistake.  But  can't  I  do  any  thing  but  stand 
here  and  look  down  at  you  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  had  a  sack,  and  something  to  fill  it 
with." 

"  I've  got  that  very  thing.  I  was  running  about  in 
the  woods  gathering  a  lot  of  gray  moss  to  send  to  our 
Jean  at  school.  I've  got  a  long  '  picking '  sack  right 
here." 

"Yes;  but  how  to  fill  it?" 

"And  I've  got  a  trowel,  too,"  says  Fred,  waving 
one  triumphantly  over  his  head. 

"It's  a  little  like  eating  soup  with  a  splinter,  but  it 
would  be  a  tremendous  relief  to  me." 

Flinging  the  sack  into  the  ditch  as  near  the  major  as 


1 88  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

possible,  Fred  retained  the  open  end  in  his  own  hand 
and  flung  the  broad  band,  by  which  the  cotton-picker 
swings  these  long  Lowell  sacks  about  his  neck  in 
picking  time,  over  a  bush,  to  keep  the  mouth  open, 
then  with  frantic  energy  he  shoveled  the  loose  earth 
from  the  bank  into  the  bag,  already  nearly  full  of  moss, 
with  hands  and  trowel.  He  soon  had  it  full,  and, 
springing  down  into  the  ditch,  heedless  of  briers  and 
water,  he  rolled  it  as  close  as  possible  to  the  spot  where 
the  major's  arm  was  still  doing  duty  for  stopper. 

"  Bravo,  my  young  levee-man.  But,  after  all,  I  find 
myself  in  the  position  of  Henry  Clay  with  the  billy- 
goat — afraid  to  hold  on,  and  daren't  let  go.  If  I  with- 
draw my  arm,  and  you  should  fail  to  get  that  heavy 
sack  at  the  right  spot  simultaneously,  we'd  be  worse 
off  than  ever.  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  help  you  much, 
as  my  arm  is  pretty  well  benumbed." 

"You've  got  no  confidence  in  me.  You  think  I'm  a 
muff." 

"My  dear  Fred,  I've  got  all  the  confidence  in  the 
world  in  your  head  and  heart,  but  very  little  in  your 
muscle.  Ah ! "  At  this  moment  the  men  Ursula 
had  sent  came  crashing  through  the  bushes  with  their 
spades  upon  their  shoulders.  "  You  are  none  too  soon, 
boys!  Cut  some  piles  quickly,  and  drive  them  on 
both  sides  me  as  near  as  possible.  Of  course  you 
brought  sacks  with  you  ?" 

"  Bar  now !  " 


IN  THE  GAP.  189 

The  men  looked  blankly  at  each  other.  Of  course 
they  had  not  brought  them.  Forethought  is  not  an 
attribute  of  this  child-like  race. 

"  Troof  is,  Mars  Major,  Miss  'Sulle  done  skeert  us 
up  so  bad  'bout  yer,  dat  we  didn'  teck  time  to  fotch 
nuffin'  but  ourseffs — did  we,  Jeff?" 

"  Dat's  de  livin'  troof,  boss!  "  Jeff  says,  swinging  his 
sharp  ax  at  one  blow  half-way  through  a  slim  cotton- 
wood  sapling. 

"  Cut  the  piles  and  drive  them  close  together.  Mr. 
Southmead  has  a  sack  here.  Fill  it  as  full  as  possible. 
Be  quick.  The  ooze  around  my  arm  grows  softer 
every  second.  The  danger  is  great,  boys." 

With  quick,  rhythmic  strokes  the  men  felled  some 
half-dozen  slender  saplings,  pointed  each  one  sharply 
at  one  end,  and  drove  them  well  down  in  the  bottom  of 
the  ditch  on  both  sides  the  major.  Then  they  lifted 
the  sack  to  swing  it  into  position. 

"  Is  it  quite  full  ?"  Stirling  asked,  anxiously. 

They  shook  its  contents  into  a  more  compact  mass, 
and  added  a  few  spadesful  of  earth. 

"  Now,  then,  when  I  say  '  ready,'  swing  it  promptly 
into  position  just  where  my  arm  comes  out.  Fred, 
stand  back,  please,  get  up  on  the  bank  yonder." 

"  One  !  two  !    three  !     Ready  !  " 

With  the  activity  of  his  nature  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 
With  the  sluggish  deliberation  of  theirs,  they  swung 
the  sack  into  the  ooze  in  the  levee.  The  discrepancy 


1 90  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

was  fatal.  Like  a  sentient  thing  enraged  at  imprison- 
ment, and  fearful  of  being  again  baffled  in  its  evil 
intent,  the  water  spouted  through  in  a  stream  of 
ominous  dimensions.  A  sudden  fissure  on  the  brown 
surface  of  the  levee  told  of  the  coming  catastrophe ; 
a  fatal  widening  of  the  crack ;  in  another  second  the 
water  had  forced  a  free  passage  for  itself,  and  came  in 
a  narrow  stream  from  base  to  crown  of  the  levee.  But 
one  chance  left ! 

"You  must  build  around  my  body.  Drive  piles 
thick  and  fast.  Fling  in  the  loose  earth  ;  sacks  and  men 
will  be  here  presently.  Work  like  beavers  rather  than 
men ;  work  for  your  homes,  not  mine,  boys.  We'll 
win  yet." 

With  the  excitement  of  battle  in  voice  and  mien,  Stir- 
ling Denny  sprang  into  the  fast  widening  fissure,  and 
dropping  his  arms,  held  them  closely  by  his  sides,  to 
present  as  solid  a  line  as  possible  to  the  encroaching 
water. 

The  two  men  worked  like  ten.  They  were  thor- 
oughly aroused  at  last.  Fred  aided  their  efforts  by 
dragging  the  piles  to  the  ditch  as  fast  as  they  cut  and 
sharpened  them.  No  sound  was  heard  but  the  ringing 
blows  of  the  axes,  the  panting  of  the  workers,  and  an 
occasional  calm  command  from  the  man  who  now  stood 
up  to  his  arm  pits  in  the  water.  Over  it  all  the  heart- 
less caroling  of  the  birds  went  on. 

More  efficient  aid  soon  arrived.      Squire  Thorn,  fol- 


77V  THE  GAP.  191 

lowed  by  a  strong  force,  equipped  with  every  thing  nec- 
essary for  levee-patching,  now  appeared.  Twenty 
brawny  arms  were  quickly  building  a  fresh  barricade  to 
landward  of  the  major's  back,  across  the  ditch.  With 
Fred's  sack  for  a  foundation  "  stay,"  the  loose  earth 
was  thrown  in  between  the  close-driven  piles,  arranged 
like  an  old-fashioned  lye  hopper.  In  half  an  hour  more 
the  same  brawny  arms  drew  Stirling  from  his  durance 
vile,  and  placed  him  upon  the  dry  sod,  a  very  sore 
and  thoroughly  soaked  man,  but  a  hero  crowned  with 
success. 

"  By  George,  Denny,  you're  a  plucky  fellow,  if  you 
are  a  Yankee !  "  Squire  Thorn  exclaimed,  in  bungling 
enthusiasm,  as  he  seized  the  young  man's  wet  hands 
in  both  his  own.  "  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  other  man 
in  the  county  that  'd  thought  of  that  road  to  salvation." 

"  It  is  the  old  story  of  the  pound  of  cure  where  the 
ounce  of  prevention  would  have  sufficed,"  said  Denny, 
coldly,  shaking  himself  after  the  fashion  of  a  wet  New- 
foundland dog. 

The  alarm  had  spread  by  this  time  far  and  wide,  and 
the  major  was  still  seated  on  a  pile  of  sacks,  gathering 
strength  from  rest  for  his  homeward  ride,  when  re- 
enforcements  from  all  the  lake  country  came  trampling 
through  the  briers. 

Each  one  had  to  hear  how  near  destruction  they  had 
all  come,  and  how  the  new  man  at  Rossmere  had  sprung 
bodily  into  the  breach  and  stayed  the  rushing  of  waters 


1 9 2  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

until  the  levee  had  been  patched  with  a  "  run-around  ;  " 
each  one  had  to  voice  his  gratitude  and  admiration 
in  words  of  strong  and  sincere  meaning,  and  each 
one  had  to  give  the  squire  a  little  dig  for  his 
neglect. 

The  day  was  far  gone  when  Black  Prince  deposited 
his  master  at  his  own  door,  stiff  and  sore  of  body,  but 
jubilant  of  spirit. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FACT  AND   PREJUDICE. 

"  \  FTER  all,  Ursula,  Yankee  thrift  was  at  the 
_/~\  bottom  of  Major  Denny's  extraordinary  efforts 
to  save  the  levee.  His  place  would  have  been  entirely 
ruined  by  an  overflow,  and  he  would  have  lost  a  thou- 
sand bale  crop,  where  your  uncle  George  would  have 
lost  only  four  hundred.  I  wonder  though  how  many 
crops  it  would  have  taken  to  pay  your  uncle  for  all  that 
Major  Denny  has  suffered  for  that  jump  into  the 
ditch." 

Mrs.  Southmead  was  gracious  enough  to  hold  this 
opinion  in  abeyance  until  their  neighbor  had  been  pro- 
nounced entirely  out  of  danger  from  the  attack  of 
pneumonia  that  followed  his  immersion. 

The  temporary  stoppage  of  the  sewing-machine  Mrs. 
Ralston  was  operating  had  been  improved  by  her  aurit 
to  express  the  above  sentiment.  'Sula  slowly  creased 
a  tuck  in  the  garment  under  her  fingers.  She  did  not 
turn  her  head  as  she  said  : 

"  Gratitude  is  the  shortest  lived  of  all  the  emotions, 
and  the  one  most  susceptible  to  the  chilling  effects  of 
time." 


194  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMEKE. 

"  Have  you  your  book  of  '  Beautiful  Thoughts  '  open 
in  front  of  you  there  ?  That  retort  sounds  so  tremen- 
dously booky,  'Sula." 

'Sula  laughed  at  the  insinuation. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "nor  does  one  need  printed  author- 
ity for  finding  you  very  ungrateful  and  ungracious, 
auntie,  in  this  matter  at  least." 

"  Ungrateful  and  ungracious  !  Why,  I  have  as  good 
as  made  the  man  a  present  of  my  husband  and  my  two 
sons.  Mr.  Southmead  and  the  boys  have  almost  lived 
at  Rossmere  since  the  day  of  that  wetting.  Of  course, 
I  appreciate  the  fact  that  he  saved  us  from  another 
overflow,  but  he  really  has  been  lionized  ad  nauseam'' 

"  I  think  in  the  long  run  you  will  receive  full  compen- 
sation for  your  loan  of  Uncle  George  and  the  boys. 
You  know  uncle  says  Carl  does  the  major  good  and 
the  major  does  Fred  good." 

"Yes,  I  know  he  says  so,  but  I  was  not  aware  of  the 
fact  before  that  my  son  stood  so  much  in  need  of  health- 
ful influence." 

The  offended  tones  of  Mrs.  Southmead's  voice 
were  supplemented  by  an  irritated  toss  of  her  hand- 
some head. 

"  I  think  his  moral  and  mental  condition  stand  in 
decided  need  of  doctoring,"  'Sula  says  boldly,  hitching 
her  chair  a  little  closer  to  the  machine,  and  carefully 
adjusting  her  work  under  the  presser-foot. 

'"Sula!" 


FACT  AND  PREJUDICE.  195 

She  faces  about  in  preparation  for  the  controversy 
she  perceives  to  be  inevitable. 

"  Now,  Aunt  Amelia,  why  not  look  facts  squarely  in 
the  face  ?  Our  Fred  is  the  creature  of  circumstances, 
and,  as  such,  is  very  much  to  be  pitied." 

"  I  do  not  concede  that.  He  is  to  be  pitied  because 
his  father's  circumstances  are  no  better ;  but  I  am 
sure,  'Sula,  he  makes  quite  as  good  an  appearance  as 
any  of  the  boys  of  his  class." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  try  to  refute  that  bit  of  mother- 
logic,  but  for  Fred's  own  sake  I  wish  you  could  be 
brought  to  take  a  broader  view  of  the  matter.  The 
men  of  the  South  in  ante-bellum  days  had  an  assured 
position  in  the  world,  and,  although  frowned  upon  by 
one  class  in  the  North,  they  were  fawned  upon  by 
another  ;  and  they  had  wealth  and  leisure  which  enabled 
them  to  cultivate  certain  social  graces  that  redounded 
to  their  attractiveness.  Moreover,  they  mingled 
with  the  world  on  a  footing  flattering  to  the  pride 
of  the  large  majority.  Now  all  that  is  changed, 
and  the  youth  of  the  present  generation  are  in  a  pre- 
dicament of  the  worst  possible  complexion.  Divested 
of  the  factitious  dignity  which  environed  the  old  slav- 
ocracy  ;  minus  the  revenues  drawn  from  the  institution 
of  slavery ;  born  amid  the  convulsive  throes  of  a  tre- 
mendous revolution ;  reared  in  an  atmosphere  thick 
with  the  motes  and  beams  of  unhealthy  traditions  and 
prejudices — what  can  they  be  expected  to  know  of 


1 96  THE  NE  W  MAN  AT  KOSSMF.RE. 

their  own  inherent  strength,  or  the  inalienable  rights 
and  privileges  of  true  manhood  ?  The  Southern  boy 
of  the  present  day  must  needs  have  something  far 
beyond  the  common  order  of  brain  to  be  able  to  strike 
a  happy  mean  between  the  social  and  political  preju- 
dices which  are  his  by  inheritance,  and  the  radical 
spirit  of  reckless  progression  which  is  abroad  in  the 
land,  and  which  appeals  strongly  to  his  restless  and 
untrained  energies." 

"  Then  I  suppose  the  inference  is,  that  it  is  only  by 
the  aid  of  such  a  well-balanced  prodigy  as  the  new  man 
at  Rossmere  that  my  son  can  hope  to  find  that  happy 
mean." 

"  He  will  certainly  find  it  all  the  sooner  from  such 
association, "  'Sula  says,  giving  the  wheel  of  her  machine 
such  an  emphatic  whirl  that  conversation  is  rendered 
practically  impossible. 

Mrs.  Southmead  rocked  energetically,  in  the  pertur- 
bation of  her  spirits.  She  was  angered  to  think  that 
no  one  member  of  her  family  could  be  brought  to  take 
exactly  the  same  view  of  this  Yankee  major  as  she  en- 
tertained. George,  she  declared  to  herself,  was  such  a 
big-hearted,  generous  creature,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he 
were  about  to  devote  his  life  to  the  major,  in  a  spirit  of 
apology  for  ever  having  been  unfriendly  toward  him  ; 
and  Frederic's  infatuation  was  only  secondary  to  his 
father's.  Mrs.  Southmead  had  all  a  conservative  South- 
ern woman's  dislike  for  a  thing  without  a  precedent,  or 


FACT  AND  PREJUDICE.  197 

a  person  without  known  antecedents.  "  You  know, 
George,"  had  been  one  of  her  stock  arguments  against 
opening  their  arms  to  their  mortal  foe,  "  we  have  no 
means  of  discovering  who  the  man  is  or  what  he  may 
have  sprung  from  ;"  to  which  Mr.  Southmead  would 
recklessly  respond  that  he  didn't  care  if  Denny  had 
never  had  any  father,  or  mother  either.  When  it  was 
confidently  believed  that  Stirling's  magnificent  phys- 
ique was  about  to  succumb  to  the  tremendous  strain  he 
had  put  upon  it,  she  had  melted  into  pure  womanly 
pity,  but  during  his  convalescence  she  had  congealed 
again,  and  all  the  more  rigorously  that  Mr.  Southmead 
had  constituted  himself  head-nurse  at  Rossmere,  and 
was  rarely  ever  at  home  now.  In  fact,  Mrs.  Southmead 
succeeded  in  convincing  herself  that  she  had  a  genu- 
ine grievance  against  the  major,  and  was  inwardly  pro- 
voked at  her  inability  to  formulate  it  convincingly  to 
any  body  else.  But  then  the  man  at  Rossmere  was 
only  one  of  her  grievances. 

The  springtime  of  their  high-water  excitement  had 
ripened  into  early  summer  heat  and  languor.  The 
crop  which  had  run  such  narrow  risk  of  total  annihila- 
tion was  now  covering  the  land  as  far  as  her  eye  could 
reach  with  glossy,  shrub-like  foliage,  the  multitude  of 
its  delicate,  triangular  "  forms  "  indicating  a  heavy  yield 
of  cotton.  The  prospect  of  a  big  crop,  her  husband 
assured  her,  was  better  than  it  had  been  any  previous 
year  since  the  war.  But  Mrs.  Southmead  was  not 


198  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

elated.  She  knew  that  the  very  best  crop  that  the 
place  could  possibly  produce  would  but  diminish  by  a 
small  fraction  the  debt  which  hung  over  them.  She 
knew  that  in  the  fall  of  the  year  wagon  after  wagon 
would  go  plodding  through -the  heavy  swamp  roads, 
piled  toppling  high  with  bulky  bales  of  cotton,  each 
one  of  which  was  an  opulent-looking  fraud,  so  far  as 
her  individual  benefit  was  concerned.  She  knew  that 
the  merchants  in  New  Orleans  only  carried  her  hus- 
band through,  year  after  year,  in  hopes  of  getting 
back  what  they  had  advanced  the  year  before,  and  that 
the  needs  of  the  family  were  dealt  with  in  a  sort  of 
perplexed  and  perplexing  get-along-as-you-can  fashion, 
harrowing  to  every  faculty.  She  knew  that  poor  'Sula 
was  even  then  degrading  herself  by  making  dresses  for 
the  colored  "  ladies  "  in  the  quarters,  as  the  only  device 
she  could  hit  upon  for  making  a  little  ready  money ;  she 
wondered  vaguely  how  they  would  all  be  clothed  after 
a  while,  when  every  thing  was  worn  out  and  there  was  no 
money  to  buy  any  more,  which  of  course  must  happen 
if  they  went  on  in  this  way ;  she  grieved  to  think  that 
Frederic's  education  was  left  incomplete,  and  that  Carl's 
prospects  for  any  at  all  were  so  dreadfully  slim ;  she 
felt,  with  Stephen  Blackpool,  that  it  was  all  a  muddle. 
The  muddle  granted,  some  one  must  have  made  it. 
Mrs.  Southmead  traced  every  woe  of  her  life  immedi- 
ately to  the  war.  Stirling  Denny  was  the  representa- 
tive of  that  action  and  the  exponent  of  the  ideas  that 


FACT  AND  PREJUDICE.  199 

led  directly  to  it.  Plainly,  it  was  her  duty  not  to  yield 
to  the  blandishments  of  this  man.  A  treaty  of  amity 
with  him  was  condoning  the  crimes  of  his  section  ;  she 
really  had  been  weak  in  not  combating  more  strenu- 
ously the  hold  he  had  gained  upon  her  husband's  affec- 
tions. Failing  to  discover  any  easy  solution  to  the 
muddle,  she  took  refuge  in  a  sort  of  diffusive  asperity, 
of  which  'Sula,  as  the  only  culprit  close  at  hand,  received 
the  full  benefit. 

"Ursula,  do  you  ever  oil  that  machine?  It  makes 
more  noise  than  a  corn-sheller,  and  I  have  a  most 
abominable  headache." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  so  before?"  'Sula  rose  and 
closed  the  machine  immediately.  "I  would  have  stopped 
long  ago." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  dared  stop.  I  took  it  for 
granted  you  were  under  bond  to  finish  those  dresses  by 
Sunday." 

"  I  believe  I  am,"  says  'Sula,  laughing  merrily.  "  Sun- 
day is  Uncle  Josh  Hick's  funeral,  and  this  dress,"  hold- 
ing up  a  brilliant  purple  alpaca,  "  is  for  his  widow. 
Won't  she  be  clad  in  the  royal  ?  " 

"To  my  certain  knowledge  Josh  Hicks  died  and  was 
buried  three  years  ago,"  Mrs.  Southmead  says,  emphatic- 
ally. 

"  Speaking  after  the  manner  of  men,  he  was  ;  at  least 
he  received  his  fleshly  interment  so  long  ago  as  that,  but 
his  manes  will  presumably  be  appeased  only  after  the 


200  THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ceremonies  on  Sunday,  when  his  funeral  will  be 
preached." 

"  Ursula !  This  is  a  God-forsaken  life  we  are  leading ! 
The  white  people  with  no  regular  opportunities  for 
worship,  and  the  blacks  desecrating  the  very  name  of 
religion  with  their  barbaric  practices." 

"  I  think  that  is  the  very  gravest  aspect  of  our  lives. 
But  if  such  matters  were  slightly  regarded  before  the 
war,  when  the  building  of  a  church  would  have  been 
play-work,  the  support  of  a  minister  a  trifling  tax,  and 
attendance  easy  enough,  what  hope  is  there  now?  " 

"  You  may  well  say  '  what  hope  now  ?  '  And  to  think 
I  am  the  only  person  in  the  house  who  sees  any  impro- 
priety in  taking  the  author  of  all  our  woes  into  our 
bosoms ! " 

"Major  Denny  the  author  of  all  our  woes!"  'Sula 
repeats,  with  flushed  cheeks  and  well-opened  eyes. 

"  He  is  a  Yankee !  That  is  enough  for  me — and 
ought  to  be  for  you." 

"Aunt  Amelia,"  says  'Sula,  with  grave  reproach,  "I 
predict  the  day  when  you  will  recall  every  one  of  those 
words  with  regret  and  remorse." 

"  Perhaps !  I  will  notify  you  when  I  feel  the  prelimi- 
nary pangs  of  regret  and  remorse."  Mrs.  Southmead 
resumed  her  crochet  with  renewed  energy,  rocking  and 
brooding  over  the  batch  of  grievances  that  no  one 
either  understood  or  cared  to  understand,  much  less 
sympathize  with,  and  finally  convincing  herself  that  she 
was  an  unrecognized  martyr. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

WIVES,   AND   HOW   TO    MANAGE   THEM. 

THE  period  of  convalescence  was  sure  and  rapid 
with  Stirling  Denny,  and  the  time  soon  came 
when  he  could  no  longer  claim  the  friendly  services  of 
his  neighbors  on  the  score  of  invalidism. 

"  It  is  worth  while  being  sick  once  in  a  while,"  he 
said,  holding  Mr.  Southmead's  hand  in  a  cordial  fare- 
well clasp,  "  to  discover  that  one  has  such  true  friends. 
I  shall  miss  your  daily  visits,  and  I  am  loath  to  give  up 
the  boys." 

"  Oh  !  but,  by  George,  you  know  we  are  all  so  tre- 
mendously in  your  debt.  We  couldn't  do  too  much 
for  you.  We'd  have  been  four  feet  under  water  but 
for  that  plucky  jump  of  yours.  You're  pretty  firm  on 
your  pegs,  eh  ?  I'm  not  half  satisfied  at  leaving  you 
here  alone.  When  is  your  friend  Craycraft  coming 
back  to  you  ?  " 

A  dark  shadow  swept  suddenly  over  the  major's 
face. 

"  He  should  be  at  home  now.  Squire  Thorn  reported 
him  as  in  a  helpless  condition  from  a  broken  arm  when 
I  was  first  taken  down,  and  he  has  been  over  to  see  me 


202  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

once  in  a  while  only.  He  certainly  must  have  worn  his 
welcome  out  with  the  Thorns  by  this  time." 

"  Craycraft  seems  to  be  such  capital  company  that 
he's  not  apt  to  do  that  soon.  The  squire's  infatuation 
over  him  is  something  extraordinary.  I  should  think 
the  young  man  could  afford  to  spare  you  a  little  time 
now.  But  you  know  my  Fred  is  entirely  at  your  dis- 
posal." 

There  seemed  a  deeper  significance  in  the  words  than 
appeared  on  the  surface,  or  perhaps  Stirling  Denny, 
ever  on  the  alert  where  his  brother  was  concerned,  fan- 
cied there  was.  Suddenly  placing  his  hands  upon  stal- 
wart George  Southmead's  shoulder,  he  said,  seriously: 

"  My  illness  has  made  me  selfishly  oblivious  of  other 
matters.  Craycraft  is  my  guest,  and  I  must  recall  him 
to  a  sense  of  what  he  owes  me.  Will  you  be  going 
that  way  soon  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  going  there  to-morrow.  The  squire  and 
I  have  a  swap  of  a  pair  of  steers  for  a  mule  pending." 

"  You  will  say  to  Craycraft,  then,  will  you  not,  that 
I  need  his  company,  particularly  just  now  ?  " 

"  Would  you  not  prefer  to  send  him  a  note  ?  " 

"  No.  I  know  him  of  old.  A  casual  remark,  appar- 
ently emanating  from  you,  might  bring  him.  The  for- 
mality of  a  note  might  impress  him  as  a  command. 
Craycraft  is  petulant  in  his  resentments." 

"As  you  will.  You  know  the  young  fellow  better 
than  I  do.  Appearing  in  the  neighborhood  as  your 


WIVES,  AND  HO IV  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  203 

friend,  it's  queer  what  a  fancy  old  Thorn  has  taken  to 
him." 

Stirling  felt  more  than  ever  responsible  for  Man- 
ton's  straight  walking.  The  two  men  understood  each 
other  without  any  more  words.  Mr.  Southmead's  last 
injunction  was  that  he  should  not  remain  out  on  the 
gallery,  where  they  parted,  after  the  sun  should  go 
down.  The  major  sat  where  he  had  left  him,  dreamily 
recalling  the  confused  events  of  the  past  six  weeks,  so 
long  a  time  seemed  to  have  passed  since  he  and  Ursula 
Ralston  had  looked  into  each  other's  hearts  for  one 
brief,  passionate  moment.  He  hungered  for  the  sound 
of  her  sweet  voice  once  more.  It  would  be  days  yet 
before  he  could  ride  over  to  Tievina.  With  conscien- 
tious intention  to  keep  his  promise  to  Mr.  Southmead, 
he  turned  his  eye  toward  the  crape  myrtle  in  the  south- 
west corner  of  the  yard,  that  always  caught  the  last 
gleam  of  sunshine.  He  started  with  surprise.  Coming 
straight  toward  him  from  his  front  gate  was  one  of  the 
women  who  had  occupied  no  inconsiderable  portion  of 
his  thoughts  for  the  past  hour.  The  squire's  wife. 
How  handsome  and  self-poised  she  looked,  her  easy 
progress  unimpeded  by  the  long  riding-habit  whose 
tight,  plain  cut  displayed  her  beautiful  shoulders  and 
bust  to  the  very  best  advantage.  A  round  felt  hat, 
with  a  crimson  bird-wing  for  ornament,  was  pressed 
rigidly  down  over  her  forehead,  leaving  a  mere  line  of 
white  forehead  visible  between  its  brim  and  the  fine, 


204  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

straight  eyebrows.  There  was  no  embarrassment  in 
her  manner  as  she  came  forward  and  held  out  one 
small,  gauntleted  hand — only  an  air  of  quiet  determi- 
nation. 

"  I  have  thought  of  you  very  often,"  she  said,  "  in 
your  long  sickness.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  far  on  the 
road  to  recovery." 

Of  the  two,  the  major  was  the  more  embarrassed. 

"You  have  not  asked  me  to  sit  down,"  she  said,  with 
well-invented  gayety,  lightly  helping  herself  to  a  seat 
beside  him,  "and  I  know  you  are  consumed  with  curi- 
osity to  know  why  I  am  here.  '  To  what  are  you 
indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  visit  ?  '  is  the  way  you 
should  word  it." 

There  was  an  undercurrent  of  excitement  in  her 
voice,  and  a  flush  on  her  cheeks  that  made  her  hand- 
somer than  ever. 

"  I  confess  to  being  more  anxious  than  curious,"  said 
Stirling,  with  grave  frankness.  "  I  am  compelled  to 
believe  that  something  very  urgent  has  secured  me  the 
honor.  You  are  not  unattended  ?  "  There  was  a  ring 
of  reproach  in  the  inquiry. 

"  My  faithful  Jim  is  with  me,  out  yonder,  with  the 
horses." 

"  I  should  have  thought — " 

She  interrupted  him  almost  petulantly  : 

"  I  know.  You  should  have  thought  that  my  hus- 
band would  have  been  a  better  escort.  He  and  his 


WIVES,  AND  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  205 

friend  have  gone  back  on  the  Mason  Hills  for  a  bear 
hunt.  Perhaps,  but  for  their  all-day  absence,  I  should 
not  have  mustered  the  courage  to  put  into  execution  a 
resolution  I  formed  some  days  ago."  She  was  silent 
for  a  moment,  tapping  the  heavy  folds  of  her  habit 
nervously  with  her  riding-whip. 

"If    I    can    be    of   any   service   to   you,    my  dear 
madam — " 

She  interrupted  him  with  vehement  rapidity  : 
"  You  can,  or,  at  least,  if  you  can  not,  no  one  can. 
Try  not  to  misjudge  me,  please.  I  have  pondered 
over  it  alone  so  much  that  perhaps  my  ideas  of  pro- 
priety are  getting  all  confused.  I  know  I  can  trust  to 
your  honor.  I  wish  you  to  recall  your  friend  Mr.  Cray- 
craft.  His  presence  is  injurious  to  my  husband.  I 
never  knew  Mr.  Thorn  to  dissipate  before.  The 
encouragement  of  a  boon  companion  who  has  such 
boundless  influence  over  him  is  ruinous.  You  will 
wonder  why  I  am  not  equal  to  the  task  of  expulsion. 
I  wonder  myself.  I  am  a  coward  who  shrinks  from  dis- 
cord and  contention.  I  am  powerless  against  my  hus- 
band's expressed  opposition  in  this  matter.  This  was 
the  only  device  I  could  hit  upon.  It  was  a  desperate 
resource,  but  it  was  my  only  one.  Perhaps  it  has 
robbed  me  of  your  respect.  I  should  be  sorry  if  it  has, 
for  I  value  it  very  highly.  Your  friend  is  robbing  me 
of  more — the  spirit  of  peace,  which  is  the  nearest 
approximation  to  happiness  some  of  us  ever  attain," 


206  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

In  a  few  words  of  earnest  sympathy  Stirling  assured 
her  of  his  entire  comprehension  and  sympathy. 

"  Had  it  not  been  for  this  unfortunate  illness  of 
mine,"  he  said,  "  you  should  not  have  been  subjected 
to  this  annoyance  so  long.  My  illness  has  made  me 
oblivious  of  every  thing  not  relating  to  self." 

Then  she  rode  away,  with  the. gloom  of  the  short  twi- 
light closing  in  about  her.  Through  the  darkening 
woods,  whose  fast-gathering  shadows  seemed  but  so 
many  somber  reflections  of  her  own  gloomy  experi- 
ences, Agnes  rode  homeward,  followed  at  a  respectful 
distance  by  Jim  Doakes,  her  most  faithful  servitor  and 
main  dependent.  The  unfamiliar  aspect  of  a  blackened 
tree-stump  caused  her  horse  to  start  violently  and  break 
her  saddle-girth.  The  delay  caused  by  repairing  it 
made  her  still  later  reaching  home.  When  she  came 
in  sight  of  the  house  and  caught  the  glimmer  of  lamps 
through  the  windows,  she  inwardly  confessed  to  a 
decided  sensation  of  nervousness.  While  conscious 
that  she  had  done  nothing  reprehensible  if  it  could  be 
explained,  the  impossibility  of  explaining  it  made  her 
uncomfortable  and  irritable. 

"  They  have  come  back,  Jim?"  she  said,  speaking 
with  an  assumption  of  indifference  she  was  very  far 
from  feeling. 

"  Wai !  wal !  yas'm  "-—Jim  stuttered  worst  when  most 
nervous — "  an  I  reck — reck — reck'n  old  boss  done  work 
•r— done  work — work — ed  hisseff  up  inter — inter — a — a 


WIVES,  A.VD  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  207 

— a  mouty  puck — puck — er  'bout  you.  I  hope  he  fotch 
home — fotch  home — plenty  b'ar  meat.  He's  mouty 
ap' — ap'  t'  be  ugly  when  he  's  dis'p'inted — dis'p'inted 
'bout  huntin'." 

"  I  had  no  idea  it  was  such  a  long  ride  to  Rossmere," 
Agnes  said,  involuntarily  entering  upon  her  defense. 

"  It's  a  good  bit — bit  uv  a  ride,  Miss  Aggy,  en  you 
start — start — startid  late,"  Jim  answers  in  gravely 
apprehensive  tones,  which  do  not  tend  to  reassure  her. 

When  she  reached  the  hall  door,  having  hastily 
thrown  her  bridle  to  Jim  at  the  gate,  she  discovered  by 
the  familiar  odor  of  fried  pork  which  greeted  her  nos- 
trils that  supper  was  on  the  table,  and  that  bear  meat 
had  not  been  added  to  their  homely  bill  of  fare. 
Throwing  her  hat  and  gloves  upon  the  hall  table,  she 
did  not  linger  to  divest  herself  of  her  habit — simply 
passed  her  hands  over  her  tumbled  hair  as  she  moved 
toward  the  dining-room. 

Her  husband  and  Manton  were  still  sitting  at  the 
table,  although  it  was  evident  from  the  emptied  cups 
and  the  general  disorder  of  the  dishes  that  their  appe- 
tites had  been  appeased,  if  not  satisfied. 

"We  are  waitin'  for  you,  madam,"  was  the  squire's 
ominous  greeting,  delivered  in  his  harshest  voice. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  began,  with  the  polite  intention 
of  apologizing,  when  her  husband  raised  his  eyes  to 
her  face  with  a  look  of  such  savage  displeasure  that 
the  words  froze  upon  her  lips,  and  she  seated  herself 


208  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

dumbly  behind  the  tea  tray,  in  a  state  of  mental  per- 
turbation that  excited  contempt  in  her  breast  for  her- 
self. 

Manton  had  risen  courteously  on  her  entrance,  and, 
after  bestowing  one  stare  of  undisguised  admiration 
upon  her  flushed  cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  directed  a 
glance  of  peculiar  significance  toward  her  plate  behind 
the  tea  things.  On  the  starched  surface  of  her  napkin 
he  had  traced  these  words  : 

"  He  is  already  aware  of  the  fact  that  you  have  been 
to  Rossmere.  Do  not  stoop  to  any  subterfuge." 

With  one  defiant  glance  into  the  handsome  eyes  bent 
upon  her  in  evident  anxiety,  she  shook  the  napkin 
from  its  folds,  spread  it  across  her  lap,  and  asked,  as 
she  proceeded  to  pour  herself  out  a  cup  of  tea  : 

"  Is  there  absolutely  nothing  left  for  me  to  do  for 
you  two  gentlemen?"  Her  voice  was  unnaturally 
cheerful.  Perhaps  it  was  that  exasperated  the  squire 
beyond  the  bonds  of  propriety. 

"  I'll  be  hanged,  Mrs.  Thorn,  if  you  don't  carry  it 
off  with  a  pretty  high  hand  !  What  do  you  suppose  I 
am  made  of,  madam,  that  I  will  submit  to  such  goin's 
on?" 

Agnes  looked  into  the  old  man's  bloodshot  eyes 
with  an  unwavering  glance,  although  she  was  conscious 
of  flinching,  as  one  would  from  a  blow,  at  the  sound 
of  his  loud,  coarse  voice.  • 

"  If  you  find  any  thing  to  object  to  in  my  conduct. 


WIVES,  AND  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  209 

Mr.  Thorn,  we  will  reserve  the  discussion  of  my  indis- 
cretion for  a  more  private  occasion,"  she  said,  icily. 

"  Find  any  thing  to  object  to?  Your  indiscretion  ! 
By  Julius  Caesar,  Craycraft,  what  do  you  think  of  that 
for  coolness?  " 

Mrs.  Thorn  rose,  and  pushing  her  untasted  tea  from 
her,  drew  herself  up  in  outraged  dignity. 

"  Mr.  Craycraft  is  not  at  liberty  to  express  any  opin- 
ion concerning  my  actions;  at  least,  not  in  my  pres- 
ence." Then  she  went  away  from  them  in  swift 
anger. 

Manton  leaned  forward  and  laid  his  hand  command- 
ingly  on  the  old  man's  arm. 

"  And  you,  sir,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  quivering  with 
suppressed  passion,  "  are  not  at  liberty  to  insult  your 
wife  in  my  presence.  You  are  in  no  condition  to-night 
to  sit  in  judgment  upon  anyone's  shortcomings,  sup- 
posed or  real.  I  advise  an  immediate  retirement  to 
your  bed." 

This  advice  partook  so  largely  of  the  nature  of  a 
command  that  the  old  man,  over  whom  Manton  had 
gained  such  boundless  influence,  rose  with  the  acquies- 
scent  meekness  of  a  coward  in  presence  of  his  master, 
and  laughed  in  the  silly  fashion  of  a  half-tipsy  man. 

"  You're  right,  Craycraft.  You're  always  right,  by 
George,  you  are,  Craycraft.  She's  a  high-stepper,  now 
though,  ain't  she,  Craycraft?"  He  supported  himself 
by  a  tight  grip  on  the  back  of  his  chair  as  he  waited 


2 1  o  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

for  an   answer.     "  Now,  ain't  she,  though,  Craycraft  ? 
Don't  you  think  she's  got  a  spice  of  the — 

"  I  think  you  will  make  me  forget  that  you  are  an 
old  man  and  the  master  of  this  house,  if  you  say 
another  word,"  Manton  thundered,  with  such  efficacy 
that  the  squire  turned  himself -staggeringly  about  and 
shuffled  off  in  the  direction  of  his  own  room,  turning 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room  to  say,  with 
drunken  iteration : 

"Now,  ain't  she  a  high  stepper,  though,  Craycraft? 
Don't  you  think  she's  got  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  her  ?  " 

Manton  turned  disgustedly  toward  the  front  gallery, 
where,  lighting  his  cigar,  he  began  to  pace  restlessly  to 
and  fro.  That  portion  of  the  house  was  in  total  dark- 
ness. The  lamps  were  only  alight  in  the  dining-room 
and  the  squire's  bedroom.  In  his  second  round  he 
heard  a  suppressed  sigh  in  the  direction  of  the  iron 
lounge. 

"  Are  you  there,  Agnes  ?  "  he  stopped  suddenly  to 
ask. 

"  I  am  here.  Perhaps  it  accords  with  your  ideas  of 
chivalry  to  add  one  more  to  the  insults  already  heaped 
upon  me."  Her  voice  came  out  of  the  darkness  to 
him  laden  with  disdain. 

"You  shall  not  pretend  to  misunderstand  me  any 
longer,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  passionate  voice,  moving  so 
close  to  her  that  she  could  have  touched  the  gleaming 
spark  of  his  cigar  had  she  so  willed  it.  You  know 


WIVES,  AND  HO IV  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  211 

that  I  neither  wish  to  insult  you  nor  will  allow  anyone 
else  to  do  it.  You  would  have  been  my  wife  to-day 
if  it  had  not  been  for  that  scrape  of  Leslie's,  for  which 
you  sold  yourself  to  that  coarse  old  man  in  yonder." 

"  That  coarse  old  man,  as  you  are  pleased  to  call  your 
host,  is  my  husband  ;  you  are  not  privileged  to  criti- 
cise him  under  this  roof." 

"  This  is  folly.  Worse  than  folly.  In  all  the  days 
and  weeks  of  my  intimacy  here,  have  I  once  trans- 
gressed the  proprieties  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  have  been  happier  for  being  near  you.  It  is  not 
wicked  to  say  so.  I  have  been  happier  and  better  and 
stronger.  You  think  I  exert  an  evil  influence  over 
your  husband.  There  you  are  wrong  again.  The 
kind-hearted,  rather  brusque  wooer  who  asked  you  to 
marry  him  on  condition  of  his  looking  after  Leslie  was 
Squire  Thorn  abroad.  Squire  Thorn  at  home  is — " 

"  Hush.  Not  one  word  more.  If  there  is  nothing 
within  you  to  deter  you  from  outraging  every  rule  of 
propriety,  every  law  of  hospitality,  spare  a  defenseless 
woman  the  knowledge  of  it.  As  matters  now  stand, 
there  is  but  one  honorable  course  left  you.  I  leave 
you  to  discover  it." 

The  hand  that  he  stretched  out  in  passionate 
entreaty  to  stay  her  quick  flight  was  unavailing.  With 
the  last  words  she  rose  from  the  couch  and  swept 
past  him  into  the  house;  past  him  and  into  the 


2 1 2  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

room  where  her  husband  lay  in  the  heavy,  motionless 
slumber  of  a  drunken  man. 

She  took  the  lamp  from  the  mantle  shelf  and  held  it 
aloft  over  him.  He  breathed  in  long-drawn,  audible 
respirations.  His  wrinkled  and  knotted  hands  were 
lying  on  the  white  spread,  doubled  up  into  pugilistic 
fists.  His  short  gray  hair  bristled  around  his  furrowed 
forehead  with  irate  stiffness,  giving  a  savagely  uncom- 
promising look  to  the  hard  lines  of  his  face,  even  in 
slumber.  The  lips  that  were  firmly  compressed  under 
the  grizzled,  square-cut  mustache  were  lips  given  to 
harsh  words  and  cruel  injustice.  But  Agnes  Thorn 
was  made  of  the  stuff  the  olden  Roman  matrons  were 
made  of. 

She  gazed  long  and  intently  down  upon  the  face  of 
the  man  to  whom  she  had  given  herself,  perhaps  from 
a  wrong  motive,  but  not  lightly.  She  almost  wished 
he  might  wake  up  then,  so  that  she  could  say  to  him 
how  truly  and  loyally  she  wanted  to  be  a  helpmate  to 
him,  but  that  he  must  help  her  too.  She  prayed 
for  the  strength  to  be  true  to  her  own  high  ideal  of  wife- 
hood,  lacking  this  help  from  him.  She  prayed  that 
the  way  to  mutual  respect  and  liking  might  grow 
plainer  rather  than  more  difficult  to  follow.  She 
prayed  for  ability  always  to  meet  his  infirmities  of 
temper  in  the  spirit  that  turneth  away  wrath.  The 
light  from  the  lamp  disturbed  the  sleeper.  He  turned 
and  muttered  audibly : 


WIVES,  AND  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  213 

"  You're  right,  Craycraft,  she's  got — a  spice — of — 
devil  in  her." 

Agnes  started  violently.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
these  muttered  words  gave  a  clew  to  the  manner  in 
which  her  name  was  handled  by  these  two  men?  Was 
Manton  Craycraft  really  trying  to  poison  the  old  man's 
mind  against  her  ?  Such  a  degree  of  baseness  was  hard 
to  comprehend.  She  replaced  the  lamp  on  the  table, 
and  seated  herself  by  a  window.  She  had  known, 
when  giving  that  desperate  "  yes  "  to  the  squire,  that 
the  marriage  bore  very  much  the  aspect  of  an  expe- 
dient on  her  part.  Hers  was  a  healthy  organization, 
however,  and  she  had  never  voluntarily  wasted  one 
hour  in  sickly  retrospection.  She  honestly  meant  to 
be  all  to  her  husband  that  was  conveyed  in  the  words, 
"  honor  and  obey."  It  was  only  after  her  home-coming 
that  she  had  discovered  how  hard  a  task  she  had 
imposed  upon  herself. 

"  Whenever  he  makes  it  too  hard  for  me,"  she  mur- 
mured, wrestling  with  the  sorrow  and  groping  help- 
lessly for  a  remedy,  "  I  will  bear  in  mind  that  the  first 
wrong  step  lies  at  my  door." 

Squire  Thorn  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  sense 
of  failure  strong  upon  him.  Imbued  with  all  the  self- 
importance  of  a  commonplace  egotist,  he  could  forgive 
any  thing  sooner  than  an  occurrence  calculated  to  les- 
sen his  importance  in  the  eyes  of  others.  The  impres- 
sion that  he  had  captivated  the  friend  of  the  new  man 


214  'E  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

at  Rossmere,  even  to  the  extent  of  making  him  abandon 
Rossmere  for  Thorndale,  had  been  a  source  of  immense 
satisfaction  to  the  narrow-souled  old  man.  In  a  burst  of 
enthusiasm  over  his  new  friend  he  had  been  heard  to  de- 
clare that  he'd  never  had  a  son  ;  he  only  wished  he  might 
have  had  one,  in  every  respect  like  Manton  Craycraft. 

With  the  boastful  swagger  that  characterized  all  his 
narrations  concerning  himself,  he  had  given  Manton  to 
understand  that  the  killing  of  a  bear,  when  he  was  one  of 
the  party,  was  never  a  matter  of  peradventure.  But  the 
bear  had  seen  fit  to  give  practical  denial  of  the  squire's  in- 
fallibility ;  and  he  had  lost  prestige  as  a  hunter  in  the 
eyes  of  a  novice  whom  he  ardently  desired  to  impress. 
Then,  in  the  long  homeward  ride,  partly  through  the 
woods  on  horseback  and  partly  by  skiff  from  the  other 
side  of  the  lake,  the  squire  had  drifted  into  one  of  his  fav- 
orite conversational  topics — "wives,  and  how  to  manage 
them,"  he  having,  ostensibly,  undertaken  to  prepare 
Manton  for  the  inevitable  struggle  for  mastery  when 
his  own  hour  should  come.  It  was  positively  a  hobby 
with  him,  and,  returning  from  the  bear  hunt  empty- 
handed,  he  was  just  in  the  mind  to  mount  it  and  ride 
recklessly. 

"  I  tell  you,  my  boy,"  he  had  said,  in  conclusion,  as 
they  left  the  skiff  and  walked  toward  the  unlighted 
house,  "  if  you  ever  want  to  live  in  peace  as  a  married 
man,  give  'em  [wives  understood]  to  understand  at  the 
beginning  that  you've  got  the  whip  hand  of  'em. 


WIVES,  AND  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  215 

Don't  stand  no  foolishness.  Don't  stand  no  gadding. 
Keep  'em  busy  if  you  want  any  peace  in  your  home  or 
prosperity  in  'your  business.  An  idle  woman  is  a  first- 
class  noosance." 

Immediately  following  this  eloquent  peroration,  the 
knowledge  that  Mrs.  Thorn  was  not  at  home,  although 
the  sun  had  long  since  set,  came  with  something  of  a 
shock,  giving  another  practical,  denial  of  his  infallibility, 
and  the  squire's  soreness  thereat  was  immense.  Taking 
refuge  in  the  coward's  unfailing  resource — bluster — the 
defeated  bear-hunter  and  wife-tamer  endeavored  to 
patch  up  his  tattered  reputation  by  the  explosiveness 
of  his  wrath.  Whatever  else  Manton  thought,  he 
should  not  think  he  was  to  be  defied  with  impunity ; 
which  third  effort  of  the  impressionist  resulted  in  his 
being  virtually  ordered  to  bed  in  his  own  house  by  his 
unimpressed  disciple. 

Small  wonder,  then,  that  he  awoke  the  next  morning 
with  a  sense  of  failure  strong  upon  him.  When  he  did 
finally  make  his  appearance,  it  was  to  find  his  wife  sit- 
ting in  the  hall  placidly  at  work.  She  looked  cool, 
dainty,  and  quietly  self-possessed.  She  was  thoroughly 
in  earnest  in  her  desire  to  give  him  a  full  and  satis- 
factory account  of  the  ride  and  the  visit  that  had  occa- 
sioned him  so  much  unreasoning  wrath.  She  took  a 
note  from  the  stand  by  her  side.  It  was  addressed  to 
her  husband.  She  had  found  it  on  the  hall  table, 
where  Manton  Craycraft  had  left  it. 


2 1 6  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Agnes  rose  as  her  husband  closed  the  door  of  their 
room  rather  noisily  behind  him,  and  walked  toward 
him  with  the  note  in  one  hand  ;  she  extended  the  other 
for  a  morning  greeting. 

"  I  angered  you  last  night,"  she  began,  with  gentle 
dignity,  "for  which  I  am  very  sorry ;  but  I  think  I  can 
explain  every  thing  to  you  satisfactorily,  and  will,  after 
you  have  read  this  note  from  your  friend.  Perhaps — " 

"  Note  from  my  friend.  Has  Craycraft  left?  Then, 
by  George,  madam,  you're  at  the  bottom  of  it  all. 
You've  treated  him  worse  than  any  nigger  on  the  place, 
just  because  you  thought  I  liked  him.  I  suppose  you 
took  occasion  of  my  goin'  to  bed  early  last  night  to 
insult  him  out  of  my  house.  Yes,  madam,  my  house. 
Every  stick  of  timber  in  it  owned  and  paid  for  by  my 
money.  And  every  blasted  thing  in  it  mine.  And  if 
I'm  not  at  liberty  to  say  who  shall  come  and  who  shall 
go  in  it,  as  long  as  my  head  is  warm,  then  the  sooner  I 
clear  out  the  better." 

He  had  snatched  the  note  from  her  left  hand  with- 
out noticing  the  right  one  held  out  in  token  of  a  desire 
for  peace  to  be  restored.  He  had  grasped  at  a  shadow, 
and  thrown  away  forever  a  most  precious  substance. 
In  that  moment  he  lost  his  last  opportunity  to  bind 
his  wife  to  him  in  closer  bonds  than  those  of  simple 
duty. 

A  weight  had  seemed  lifted  .from  her  heart  when  she 
had  found  her  home  purged  of  Manton  Craycraft's 


WIVES,  AND  HOW  TO  MANAGE  THEM.  21J 

presence.  It  settled  down  again  with  leaden  sudden- 
ness at  sight  of  that  anger-inflamed  face,  and  at  sound 
of  words  so  cruelly,  brutally  unjust  that  she  flinched  as 
under  a  lash. 

Whenever  Squire  Thorn  was  seen  stumping  through 
his  field  afoot,  with  an  ax  over  his  shoulder,  slaying 
with  wrathful  precision  every  intrusive  shrub  that  had 
sprung  spontaneously  in  his  cotton  or  corn  fields, 
laying  low  the  budding  hopes  of  many  a  tiny  oak  and 
infantile  pecan,  it  was  understood  to  mean  that  some- 
thing had  gone  dreadfully  wrong  with  him,  socially, 
politically,  or  financially,  this  wholesale  slaughter  of 
unoffending  shrubs  being  a  sort  of  safety-valve  with 
him. 

"An*  a  Gawd's  blessin'  it  is,  folks,  dat  he  takes  it 
out  on  dem  growin'  things,  'stead  of  critters  wid  blood 
in  dey  veins,"  Aunt.  Lucy  had  often  been  heard  to 
declare,  in  a  spirit  of  thankfulness. 

On  the  day  when  Manton  Craycraft  had  penned  his 
short  note  telling  the  squire  that  his  "  conscience  smote 
him  for  his  long  neglect  of  his  friend  Denny,"  the 
squire's  ax  did  great  execution,  and  his  fields  were  re- 
lieved of  a  quantity  of  unsightly  shrubs.  His  sense 
of  failure  did  not  follow  upon  the  swinging  blows  of 
his  sharp-edged  ax. 

But  the  spirit  of  conciliation  had  fled  forever  from 
his  home. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

GOING    TO    CHURCH. 

ONE  Saturday  evening  just  about  this  time,  Mr. 
Southmead  created  a  flutter  at  the  Tievina  tea- 
table  by  informing  the  family  there  would  "  be  church  " 
in  the  village  the  following  morning. 

The  village  was  the  county-seat,  situated  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lake  from  Tievina,  at  a  distance  of 
three  or  four  miles.  As  there  was  no  other  assemblage 
of  houses,  large  or  small,  within  a  circumference  of 
twenty  miles  on  its  own  side  of  the  water,  it  needed  no 
more  accurate  designation  than  "  the  Village."  During 
court  term  it  teemed  with  the  life  and  activity  incident 
upon  such  occasions,  but  its  normal  condition  was  that 
of  semi-stagnation. 

The  flutter  of  pleasurable  excitement  which  Mr. 
Southmead  s  news  threw  the  family  into  is  not  easily 
explainable  to  those  to  whom  divine  service  is  an  inte- 
gral part  of  the  Lord's  day. 

"Can  we  all  go?"  Carl  asked  in  childish  eagerness, 
turning  a  pair  of  anxious  eyes  from  his  father's  read- 
ily consenting  smile  to  where  his  mother  sat  behind 
the  tea  things. 


GOING  TO  CHURCH.  2ig 

"  What  say,  mother?  " 

Mr.  Southmead  was  never  known  to  issue  a  mandate 
or  utter  a  denial  at  first-hand.  His  universal  tendency 
was  toward  doing  what  every  body,  from  Carl  up,  would 
best  like  to  have  him  do,  but,  doubting  the  wisdom  of 
this  wholesale  acquiescence,  he  shirked  responsibility 
by  leaving  all  momentous  decisions  to  his  wife.  Mrs. 
Southmead  proved  propitious  on  this  occasion. 

"  I  should  think  it  could  be  managed  by  taking  the 
blue  wagon  and  a  pair  of  good  stout  mules,"  she  an- 
swered. "  The  child  is  growing  up  in  such  heathenish 
ignorance  that  he  absolutely  mistook  the  picture  of  a 
church-steeple  the  other  day  for  a  pigeon-house." 

"Shocking!" 

Mr.  Southmead  rolled  his  eyes  solemnly  in  the  direc- 
tion-of  the  curly-headed  little  heathen.  Ignoring  her 
husband's  levity,  Mrs.  Southmead  continued :  "  I  sup- 
pose, 'Sula,  you  are  not  above  going  to  church  in  a 
plantation  wagon.  It  is  not  very  stylish,  but  I  have 
long  since  ceased  to  hope  for  any  thing  beyond  the 
bare  necessities  of  life.  Yes,  we  will  all  go." 

Nine  o'clock  on  the  following  morning,  therefore,  a 
morning  that  was  soon  to  scorch  its  way  into  the  noon- 
day heat  of  a  July  Sabbath,  found  the  Tievina  family 
seated  on  splint-bottomed  chairs  in  a  springless  wagon, 
bumping  their  way  over  the  dusty  highway  to  a  point 
opposite  the  village,  where  they  would  embark  in  the 
ferry  skiff  for  their  final  destination. 


220  THE  NE  VV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

The  rusty-coated,  harness-scarred  mules  shuffled 
lazily  along,  sending  up  clouds  of  dust  in  placid  indif- 
ference to  their  destination  or  the  comfort  of  their 
palpitating  cargo.  An  irritated  flapping  of  their  long 
ears,  accompanied  by  a  defiant  switching  of  their 
stumpy  tails,  was  the  only  response  vouchsafed  by 
them  to  Mr.  Southmead's  decidedly  amateurish  "  Git 
up,  mules! " 

Even  when  invested  with  the  charm  of  novelty,  the 
road  from  Tievina  to  the  village  possessed  nothing  to 
arrest  the  eye,  and  to  those  who  knew  every  foot  of 
the  dusty  roadway,  every  rod  of  the  grass-grown  levee, 
every  clump  of  dust-laden  Jamestown  weed  and  rankly 
intrusive  wild  indigo,  there  was  nothing  to  beguile  the 
absolute  tedium  of  the  ride  but  an  occasional  demand 
for  friendly  greetings  by  a  group  of  colored  "  ladies  and 
gentlemen,"  gorgeous  in  Sunday  apparel  and  redolent  of 
musk,  mounted,  generally,  two  on  one  horse,  trotting 
by  to  "  meetin'." 

Viewed  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake  on  a  bright 
morning,  with  the  sun  shining  full  upon  it  with  kindly 
effect,  with  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  lake  lapping  its 
shores  close  to  the  garden  fences,  the  village  was  a 
pretty  enough  object,  but  a  closer  approach  dispelled 
every  pleasing  illusion. 

Approaching  from  the  north,  the  village  was  a  failure. 
A  row  of  straggling  negro  cabins,  belonging  to  the 
plantation  out  of  which  the  little  hamlet  was  scooped, 


GOING  TO  CHURCH.  221 

offered  thriftlessness  and  slovenliness  as  first  impres- 
sions. As  a  matter  of  course,  these  cabins  were  tumble- 
down, windowless,  stepless,  and  dirty,  with  the  usual 
environment  of  old  shoes,  empty  and  battered  tin  cans, 
neckless  whisky  flasks,  coon-skins  stretched  against 
the  outer  walls  in  token  of  the  shot-gun  within  ;  rows 
of  empty  pickle  pork  barrels,  with  slanting  planks  for 
gutters,  studding  the  rickety  galleries  as  makeshift  cis- 
terns, and  other  such  "  properties."  A  small,  unpainted 
wooden  edifice,  with  a  canvas  sign,  flapping  loose  at 
one  corner,  pointed  out  the  essential  groggery  ;  but  as 
the  loosened  corner  concealed  the  letter  S  that  pro- 
claimed the  "Saloon,"  the  patent  reading  was  a-loon, 
which  sounded  very  much  like  grim  sarcasm  on  its  fre- 
quenters. The  inevitable  blacksmith-shop  occupied  a 
prominent  position  on  the  lake  front.  Its  big  black 
doors  were  closed  this  bright  Sunday,  and  the  horse- 
rack  was  tenantless.  There  was  the  one  public  "  stop- 
ping place  "  a  few  steps  beyond,  pretentiously  called 
the  tavern.  It  was  kept  by  a  meek  little  widow  who 
walked  through  life  burdened  with  the  funereal  appel- 
lation of  Koffin,  and  with  a  crushing  sense  of  responsi- 
bility touching  other  people's  digestive  organs.  One 
languishing  Gentile  store  devoted  to  "  general  mer- 
chandise," and  two  prosperous  Jew  shops  of  like  mis- 
cellaneous tendencies,  comprised  the  commercial  circle 
of  the  village.  A  few  residences,  laying  no  claim  to 
distinction  of  any  sort,  were  scattered  about  the  con- 


222  THE  NE  W  MA N  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

fines  of  the  little  town,  affording  shelter  and  a  modicum 
of  comfort  to  such  citizens  as  an  overruling  Providence 
or  unexplainable  individual  choice  had  doomed  to 
spend  their  lives  in  social  ostracism  and  mental  stag- 
nation. The  one  redeeming  feature  of  the  village  was 
the  brick  court-house  toward  which  all  eyes  were  turned 
this  Sunday  morning.  The  village  boasted  of  no  church 
proper.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  thing  for  which  it 
had  greater  need  or  less  desire.  How  to  have  a  church 
without  putting  the  entire  community  under  bonds  to 
keep  the  peace  was  a  problem  yet  unsolved.  So  few 
were  the  creedsmen  and  so  many  the  creeds  that  no 
two  or  three  could  possibly  be  gathered  together  in  the 
spirit  of  unity  on  this  subject.  Hence,  on  such  rare 
occasions  as  the  present,  when  any  expounder  of  the 
law  and  the  prophets  found  it  convenient  to  throw 
crumbs  of  spiritual  sustenance  to  these  starvelings,  the 
court-house  furnished  ample  accommodation. 

"  They  do  say,"  said  Mr.  Southmead,  pausing  on  top 
of  the  bank,  after  landing  his  cargo  of  would-be  wor- 
shipers, to  give  a  pull  down  to  the  vest  his  corpulency 
rendered  rather  refractory,  "  that  one  of  these  parsons 
is  uncommonly  eloquent.  Something  clear  out  of  the 
ordinary  run — sort  of  Cotton  Matherish  and  Spurgeon- 
istic,  you  know." 

"  Two  of  them  ! "  Mrs.  Southmead  repeats,  dis- 
mayed. 

"  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.   S.,  you  don't  hunger  and  thirst 


GOING  TO  CHURCH.  223 

after  righteousness,"  said  her  husband,  gallantly  offer- 
ing his  arm  to  assist  her  up  the  steep  steps  to  the  court- 
house. 

"  I  was  just  thinking  of  those  horrid  chairs  in  the 
court-house  yoked  together,  to  deprive  one  of  the  poor 
satisfaction  of  hitching  up  a  little  !  Stiff-backed  hor- 
rors !  I  suspect  we  will  all  hunger,  and  thirst  too, 
before  both  of  those  men  get  through." 

"  Likely  !  They  get  a  chance  at  us  so  seldom  that 
they  do  pound  us  pretty  vigorously.  Here,  Carl,  you 
rogue,  I  want  you  to  learn  the  difference  between  a 
church  and  a  pigeon-house  to-day;  do  you  hear,  sir?" 

"  Cozzy's  learnt  me  already,"  says  Carl,  in  ungram- 
matical  boastfulness,  clinging  to  'Sula's  hand  and  leap- 
ing in  an  ecstasy  of  enjoyment  at  seeing  something 
which  was  not  Tievina. 

"  The  mutability  of  all  things  here  below  receives 
practical  refutation  within  these  musty  precincts,"  says 
Mr.  Southmead,  comfortably  locating  his  crowd  on  the 
yoked  chairs.  "  To  my  certain  knowledge  that  is  the 
same  rust  on  that  o.ld  stove,  the  same  cigar  stumps  and 
ancient  pindar-hulls  ornament  its  sand-box  that  were 
there  before  the  war.  The  very  flies  walking  on  those 
opaque  window-sashes  have  a  reminiscent  look  about 
them." 

Most  undoubtedly  the  same  people  were  scattered 
on  the  yoked  chairs  that  were  always  on  hand  at  these 
spasmodic  services.  Old  Judge  Pounder,  in  the  front 


2  24  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

row  of  chairs,  whose  austere  dignity  and  grizzled  over- 
hanging brows  filled  Carl's  small  soul  with  such  abject 
terror,  held  his  fine  head  with  such  a  sternly  judicial 
erectness  that  it  was  hard  to  imagine  even  the  most  elo- 
quent of  parsons  persuading  him  to  the  humility  of 
genuflexion,  more  especially  upon  the  very  spot  where 
he  was  wont  to  fulminate  the  thunder  of  his  own  wrath 
over  the  heads  of  admiring  counsel  and  quaking  crimi- 
nals. Little  Mrs.  Koffin  was  there  in  the  alpaca-clad 
body,  but  her  spirit  was  in  the  kitchen  she  had  deserted 
for  this  soul  refreshment,  and  it  was  only  half-hearted 
devotion  she  could  render  for  thinking  of  the  wrath  to 
come  if  the  boarders'  dinner  should  suffer  for  her 
church-going ;  Mrs.  Paine,  the  tailoress,  with  her  sandy- 
haired  boy  by  her  side,  her  one  hope  and  pride — who 
knew  but  that  some  of  these  days  he  might  not  blossom 
out  into  a  parson  himself?  She  meant  to  give  him 
every  chance  for  it,  anyhow.  The  Tievina  crowd  filled 
one  lot  of  chairs  respectably,  and  Lawyer  Harris's 
family  filled  another  with  equal  dignity  and  gentility. 
After  a  skip  of  three  blank  rows  came  Stirling  Denny 
and  Manton  Craycraft,  one  on  either  end  of  a  bench, 
as  if  they  were  trying  to  impose  a  fiction  of  fullness 
upon  the  casual  observer.  A  smattering  of  lads  and 
children  supplemented  this  sparse  showing  for  a  con- 
gregation. There  was  no  one  else  to  come.  The  rest 
of  the  white  settlers  were  either  too  far  away  or  were 
hardened  into  indifference  which  the  most  eloquent 


GOING  TO  CHURCH.  225 

divine  could  not  pierce.  The  flies  buzzed  audibly  on 
the  opaque  window-sash.  The  restless  rustling  of  the 
cottonwood  trees  in  the  court-house  yard  suggested  a 
coolness  not  felt.  The  sound  of  oars  from  the  ferry 
skiff  smote  upon  the  stillness,  where  the  few  worshipers 
sat  mute,  expectant,  and  uncomfortable.  Two  heads, 
or  rather  two  sections  of  two  heads,  had  been  long 
visible  to  the  first  comers  from  behind  the  cushioned 
ledge  of  the  judge's  stand.  Carl  inquired  of  "Sula,  in 
a  hissing  whisper,  "  who  them  heads  belonged  to,"  at 
which  a  decorous  smile  stole  its  languid  way  from  face 
to  face.  The  heads  were  respectively  a  light  red  and 
a  dark  brown.  Presently,  without  other  signs  of  ani- 
mation than  a  preparatory  cough  and  a  visible  occulta- 
tion  between  the  red  and  the  brown  heads,  there  arose 
from  the  invisible  throats  of  the  invisible  preachers  the 
first  lines  of  "  All  my  doubts  I  give  to  Jesus,"  and  so 
it  went  floating  in  nasal  melody  over  the  heads  of  the 
congregation;  then  uprose  from  the  seat  behind  the 
judge's  stand,  like  two  sober-minded  Jacks-in-the-box, 
the  men  belonging  to  the  heads. 

The  song  ended,  prayer  followed,  and  while  every 
head  was  bent,  there  stole  into  the  room  and  noise- 
lessly seated  herself  a  lonely  figure — the  squire's  wife, 
unattended.  A  slight  air  of  surprise  pervaded  more 
than  one  pair  of  eyes  when  this  addition  was  discov- 
ered. No  one  from  Thorndale  had  ever  been  seen  at 
"  church."  Serene  dignity  sat  enthroned  on  the  placid 


226  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

brow  of  the  woman,  who  was  unconscious  of  her  own 
isolation. 

She  had  come  there  to-day  in  hopes  of  gathering 
some  crumbs  fron  the  Master's  table.  One  glance  at 
these  self-  constituted  stewards  of  His,  satisfied  her  that 
they  had  no  comfort  to  give  her.  Of  similar  height 
and  like  meager  build,  the  one  stood  revealed  in  all  the 
monotony  of  universal  sandiness  from  the  crown  of  his 
close-cropped  head  to  the  pointed  tip  of  his  thin 
goatee.  The  other  offered  an  equally  exhaustive  ex- 
hibit of  dull  browns.  If  genius  burned  in  either  one  of 
those  narrow-browed  heads,  the  flames  did  not  escape 
through  either  pair  of  lack-luster  eyes.  But  as  there 
is  one  glory  of  the  moon  and  another  glory  of  the 
stars,  so  is  there  one  gift  of  the  mind  and  another  of 
the  lip,  and  still  another  of  the  muscles.  As  soon  as 
he  of  the  sandy  hue  delivered  his  text  with  a  fierce 
energy  of  eye,  tongue,  and  fist,  pounding  the  dust  out 
of  the  judge's  reading-desk  cushion  with  a  regular  house- 
cleaning  frenzy,  Agnes  discovered  how  vain  her  pil- 
grimage in  search  of  comfort  was  destined  to  prove, 
and  sat  through  the  long,  meaningless  harangue  listless 
and  self-absorbed.  It  was  with  an  actual  start  that  she 
discovered  the  congregation  in  motion  for  departure. 
She  stood  irresolute  a  moment.  Her  inclination  was 
to  advance  toward  the  Tievina  people  and  give  them 
cordial  greeting.  She  had  seen  none  of  them  since 
that  morning  when  'Sula  had  rushed  in  upon  her  and 


GOING  TO  CHURCH.  227 

sunk  hysterically  upon  her  neck.  Such  lapses  of  inter- 
course were  the  rule  of  the  neighborhood,  and  had  no 
special  meaning.  But  Mrs.  Harris,  the  lawyer's  wife, 
had  rushed  up  to  insist  that  the  Tievina  people  must 
not  think  of  going  home  in  that  hot  sun.  They  were 
all  to  go  home  to  dinner  with  her.  An  instinct  of  shy- 
ness kept  Mrs.  Thorn  aloof  from  the  little  group. 
Surely  'Sula  would  come  to  her.  Mrs.  Harris  had  never 
called  upon  the  squire's  wife.  She  lifted  her  eyes  to 
Mrs.  Thorn's  pale,  passionless  face  with  some  curi- 
osity, then  gave  her  a  little  stab  :  "  They  say  she  is 
very  fond  of  gentlemen's  society.  I  hear  that  Mr. 
Craycraft  lives  at  Thorndale,  almost.  Come." 

The  three  women  moved  toward  the  one.  Mrs. 
Harris's  eyeglass  was  raised  scrutinizingly.  Mrs. 
Southmead's  greeting  was  simply  polite.  'Sula  stood 
still,  to  offer  her  the  only  woman's  hand  she  had  clasped 
in  a  month. 

"  I  wish  you  were  not  going  home  in  that  hot  sun," 
she  said,  softly,  but  meaning  Mrs.  Harris  to  catch  the 
words  and  act  upon  them.  "  I  am  afraid  you  have 
hardly  been  compensated  for  coming." 

Agnes  held  the  little  gloved  hand  with  hysterical 
tenacity.  She  felt  the  tears  must  come  if  she  spoke  or 
moved. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Ralston  !  "  Mrs.  Harris  looked  back 
over  her  shoulder  to  call.  'Sula  gave  one  more  little 
squeeze,  and  moved  on  to  join  her  crowd. 


228  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Mrs.  Thorn  walked  forward  alone,  past  the  little 
group  of  men  collected  on  the  gallery,  who  stood  with 
hats  held  respectfully  aloft  in  the  presence  of  the 
women,  down  the  long  stairs  unattended,  then  with 
quickening  steps  across  the  short  intervening  space  to 
where  Jim  Doakes  lay  sleeping  the  waiting  hours  away 
in  the  skiff  that  had  brought  her  from  Thorndale. 

"  I  am  going  to  beg  a  lift  across  to  Thorndale,  Mrs. 
Thorn,  and  will  try  to  make  my  presence  acceptable 
by  using  this  big  umbrella." 

The  voice  was  so  like  Manton's  that  she  turned  with 
withering  intent ;  instead,  Stirling  Denny's  fine,  frank 
eyes  were  smiling  down  upon  her. 

She  felt  effusively  grateful  to  him  for  being  himself 
rather  than  the  other  one.  She  would  have  been  more 
so  if  she  had  known  this  sudden  move  on  the  major's 
part  was  the  only  device  he  could  hit  upon  to  thwart 
Manton's  declared  intention  of  doing  the  same  thing. 

She  placed  her  hand  in  his,  to  be  assisted  into  the 
rocking  skiff.  He  followed,  and  Jim,  taking  the  oars, 
soon  put  the  water  between  them  and  the  shore. 

It  was  but  a  short  walk  from  the  court-house  to  the 
Harrises.  The  Southmeads  and  the  Harrises  were 
very  dear  friends  whenever  chance  threw  them 
together.  Mrs.  Southmead  and  her  hostess  had 
"oceans  to  tell  each  other."  'Sula  laid  off  her  bonnet, 
and  walked  out  on  the  ivy-covered  gallery,  to  see  the 
master  of  the  house,  who  had  not  been  at  church, 


GOING  to  CHURCH.  tzg 

She  found  him  standing,  with  his  field-glasses  pointed 
toward  the  lake,  gazing  through  them  so  intently  he  did 
not  notice  her  approach,  "  What  is  the  object  of 
interest?  "  she  asked,  at  his  elbow( 

"  Ah  !  you  there,  bright  eyes !  I  was  trying  to  make 
out  the  parties  in  that  skiff  yonder.  One  looks  like  a 
lady.  Surely  wife  would  never  have  allowed  a  lady  to 
go  home  in  this  hot  sun  across  that  water.  It  looks  as 
if  it  might  be  old  Thorn's  handsome  wife." 

'Sula  took  the  glasses,  but  returned  them  quickly. 
"  It  is  Mrs.  Thorn.  The  other  one,"  she  said,  "  is 
Major  Denny.  He  is  protecting  her  from  the  sun  with 
his  umbrella.  Her  ride  home  will  not  be  so  very 
uncomfortable." 

Then  she  hoped  she  hadn't  sounded  unamiable.  She 
wished  she  could  say  to  herself  that  she  didn't  feel  so 
either. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MISCHIEF- MONGERS. 

THE  lower  story  of  this  court-house,  which  has  been 
described  with  unnecessary  precision,  was  divided 
into  various  offices  belonging  to  the  different  county 
officials ;  dingy,  comfortless  apartments,  all  of  them 
duplicating  on  a  small  scale  the  untidiness  of  the 
court  room  above. 

While  the  cracked  melodeon  overhead  was  wheezily 
rendering  "  Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee,"  at  the  close  of 
the  long  sermon  by  the  sandy  man,  two  men  sat  in  the 
office  just  below  it  in  earliest  conference.  "  Recorder's 
Office  "  was  painted  in  black  letters  on  the  dirty  white 
door. 

One  of  these  men  was  large  and  florid,  with  a  profu- 
sion of  dead  red  hair  covering  a  well-shaped  head. 
His  deep  blue  eyes,  set  under  red-brown,  bushy  brows, 
were  keenly  intelligent,  but  sinister  in  expression. 
He  was  a  man  of  education,  and  possessed  of  an  easy 
assurance  of  manner  about  him  that  enabled  him  to 
perform  the  duties  of  the  recorder's  office  with  stolid 
indifference  to  the  fact  that  he  was  a  social  outcast. 
The  men  of  the  community  accorded  him  the  respect 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  2  3 1 

due  his  official  position  ;  the  women  ignored  his  exist- 
ence absolutely  and  consistently.  He  was  a  carpet- 
bagger of  the  most  obnoxious  stripe.  He  had  come 
from  no  one  knew  whither,  and  had  lifted  himself  into 
a  fat  office  by  ways  that  were  dark  and  devious.  He 
was  called  Judge  Upps ;  but  no  "one  knew  the  source 
of  his  official  title.  He  was  bold,  self-sufficient,  and 
shrewd.  The  other  man  was  small,  pallid,  and  pinched, 
with  cowardly  eyes  that  never  rested  longer  than  one 
furtive  second  upon  any  object,  but  seemed  perpetu- 
ally on  sentinel  duty,  ready  to  warn  their  owner  of 
danger.  He  walked  with  his  head  bowed  and  his 
knees  apparently  always  on  the  point  of  crooking 
their  pregnant  hinges  in  apology  for  some  sin 
of  omission  or  commission.  His  hands  and  feet, 
hugely  disproportioned  to  the  rest  of  his  meager 
body,  partook  of  the  general  air  of  apology  that  per- 
vaded the  whole  man ;  his  hands,  as  Hood  has  it,  per- 
petually washing  themselves  "  with  invisible  soap  in 
imperceptible  water;"  his  feet  taking  short,  cautious 
steps,  as  one  accustomed  to  guard  against  pitfalls.  In 
straight,  lank  masses  his  dingy  sandy  hair  fell  about  a 
forehead  high  and  narrow,  beneath  which  his  lack-luster 
eyes  were  set  so  closely  together  that,  but  for  the 
friendly  interposition  of  a  high-bridged  nose,  they  might 
easily  have  passed  for  one  elongated  eye.  He  too  was 
a  carpet-bagger,  from  no  one  knew  whither ;  he  too  had 
lifted  himself  into  a  fat  office  at  a  time  when  the  fat 


232  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

offices  were  the  more  easily  procurable  through  the 
suicidal  policy  of  the  native  whites  that  held  them  aloof 
from  local  politics  in  sulky  dignity.  His  name  was 
Gays ;  but,  beyond  a  general  knowledge  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  county  clerk,  in  which  capacity  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  communication  with  him  was  unavoid- 
able, he  too  was  a  social  outcast,  endured  by  the  men 
and  ignored  by  the  women.  Perhaps  that  hollow- 
hearted  policy  which  enables  one  to  bestow  a  certain 
amount  of  affability  along  with  enforced  endurance 
might  have  been  beneficial  to  the  people  of  the  locality 
upon  which  these  unscrupulous  interlopers  had  fastened 
like  barnacles.  But,  in  the  early  days  succeeding  the  first 
bitterness  of  defeat,  the  wisdom  of  smiling  upon  a  vil- 
lain and  winking  at  his  villainy  had  not  been  indorsed 
by  the  chafed  but  high  principled  southerners.  Hence  it 
came  about  that  while  Judge  Upps  and  Mr.  Gays  were 
reaping  golden  harvests  from  the  troubled  condition  of 
affairs  that  bred  endless  litigation,  they  were  wounded 
in  their  tenderest  sensibilities — self-love  and  vanity — 
by  the  haughty  bearing  of  the  men  with  whom  they 
came  in  contact. 

Strangers  to  each  other  when  they  had  first  drifted 
to  the  county,  these  two  men  had  been  linked  together 
by  a  bond  of  common  hatred,  and  formed  a  sort  of 
alliance,  offensive  and  defensive. 

On  the  morning  in  question  it  would  have  been  the 
preference  of  each  of  these  men  to  attend  the  services 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  233 

upstairs,  for  they  came  of  a  people  much  given  to 
religious  observance,  and  really  missed  what  they 
regarded  as  Christian  privileges.  But  it  had  become 
so  well-established  a  custom  for  them  to  absent  them- 
selves from  any  gathering  where  the  wives  of  the  plant- 
ers appeared  that  they  remained  away.  They  never 
discussed  the  fact  of  their  ostracism  ;  but  each  heart 
knew  its  own  bitterness.  They  never  discussed  any 
plan  of  revenging  themselves  upon  these  haughty 
natives.  Yet  both  men  felt  morally  sure  that,  should 
any  opportunity  offer  by  which  some  of  the  unspoken 
curses  they  had  incurred  could  be  sent  home  to  roost, 
they  would  find  each  in  the  other  a  willing  and  able 
coadjutor. 

Hence  it  was  that  on  this  Sunday,  while  the  thunders 
of  the  sandy-hued  expounder  in  the  upper  story  came 
to  them  in  distant  mutterings,  and  the  asthmatic  melo- 
deon  punctuated  their  talk  with  quavering  quavers  and 
crotchety  tones,  these  two  men  showed  each  other  their 
inmost  desires. 

"  I  told  Faythliss  to  meet  us  here  this  morning  be- 
tween eleven  and  twelve,"  said  Judge  Upps,  glancing 
from  the  face  of  a  handsome  gold  repeater  in  his  hand 
toward  the  dingy  window  through  which  the  court- 
yard gate  was  visible. 

"  It  would  have  been  better,  probably,"  Gays  an- 
swered, rubbing  his  hands  apologetically  together,  "to 
have  said  about  two  o'clock." 


234  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"And  why?" 

"  Because  that  is  the  universal  dinner  hour,  and  we 
would  have  been  more  secure  from  observation." 

"Blast  the  universal  dinner  hour!  I  intend  that 
Faythliss  shall  be  elected  sheriff  of  this  county,  and 
you  don't  expect  to  carry  this  election  against  every 
white  man  in  the  county  'secure  from  observation,' 
do  you  ?" 

The  judge  gave  his  head  a  defiant  shake,  and  laughed 
scornfully  into  the  face  of  his  more  timorous  colleague, 
who  sat  silently  laving  his  hands  in  the  atmosphere  be- 
fore venturing  upon  a  reply. 

"  True,  very  true  !  "  he  said  at  last ;  "  but  you  know, 
judge,  there  is  an  old  saying  which  advises  one  to  let 
sleeping  dogs  lie.  I  only  want  to  let  the  dogs  sleep  as 
long  as  possible.  It  is  absolutely  essential  for  the  good 
of  the  party  that  Faythliss  shall  be  the  next  sheriff  of 
this  county — " 

"  He  must  be,"  the  judge  interrupts,  bringing  his  fist 
down  with  as  much  force  as  the  expounder  overhead 
was  expending  on  the  cushion. 

"  As  you  say,  '  he  must  be  ; '  true,  very  true,  and  he 
shall  be.  His  own  color,  though,  are  the  ones  to  elect 
him." 

"  His  own  color  are  a  parcel  of  cowardly  whelps  who 
need  a  leader,  and  will  take  the  first  one  that  offers. 
They  have  no  ideas,  no  opinions,  no  convictions.  As 
yet  they  have  scarcely  any  desires  beyond  a  pinchbeck 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  235 

breast-pin  or  a  flask  of  whisky.  If  we  fail  to  show 
them  the  way  to  go,  there  are  those  about  us  that  will 
perform  that  duty  for  us,  but  not  quite  to  our  liking. 
Harris  has  picked  out  his  man  for  sheriff  already.  Give 
him  half  a  chance  to  elect  him,  and  you  and  I  might  as 
well  seek  fresh  fields  and  pastures  green." 

"  Harris  is  a  dangerous  man  when  once  aroused.  I 
had  Harris  in  my  mind's  eye  when  I  suggested  the  pro- 
priety of  letting  sleeping  dogs  lie,"  Gay  answers  nerv- 
ously. 

"  He  would  be  more  dangerous  if  not  quite  so  con- 
temptuous. He  feels  so  secure  of  holding  the  herd  in 
hand,  so  far  as  the  final  outcome  is  concerned,  that  he 
is  willing  to  let  you  and  me,  with  our  highly  respectable 
constituency  of  free  niggers,  run  to  our  rope's  end,  in 
the  confident  hope  that  when  we  get  there  the  noose 
will  tighten  about  our  necks  of  its  own  accord  and 
choke  us." 

Upps  laughed  a  little  mirthless  laugh,  bit  off  the  end 
of  a  cigar  with  savage  energy,  and  scowled  at  the  gate 
through  which  the  delinquent  Faythliss  must  come 
sooner  or  later. 

"  We  are  very  comfortable  as  we  are,  Upps,  I  advo- 
cate going  slowly.  I  don't  know  how  it  was  with  you 
before  you  came  South,  but  I'm  free  to  say  I  had  a  tol- 
erably tough  time  of  it.  Don't  you  think  some  good 
strong  advice  given  by  us  to  Faythliss,  under  bond  of 
inviolable  secrecy,  you  know,  and  through  him  to  the 


236  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

leading  men  of  color,  would  be  about  as  much  as  we  are 
called  on  to  do  for  the  party  at  this  particular  juncture. 

"  Gays,"  said  the  judge,  fixing  the  clerk  of  the  court 
with  his  deep  blue  eye,  "  I'll  be  dashed  if  I  know  what 
to  expect  from  you,  or  how  far  I  can  depend  upon  you. 
I  believe  at  this  moment,  if  Harris  were  to  throw  you 
a  bone  with  one  hand,  and  slap  you  with  the  other 
while  you  were  gnawing  it,  you  would  apologize  to  him 
for  gnawing  a  bone  that  had  once  belonged  to  him.  By 
George,  I  do,  sir  !  " 

"  Harris  is  not  likely  to  throw  us  any  bones,"  says 
Gays,  unresentfully,  taking  the  taunt  rather  literally, 
"  but  I  certainly  am  peacefully  inclined,  Upps — very 
peacefully  inclined,  and  while  I  agree  with  you  per- 
fectly as  to  the  necessity,  for  the  sake  of  the  party,  that 
we  should  elect  Faythliss  to  this  office,  I  can  not  see 
why  we  need  make  ourselves  unnecessarily  conspicu- 
ous in  the  matter." 

"  Conspicuous !  By  the  eternal,  I  intend  to  be  con- 
spicuous, and  when  these  high-steppers  find  themselves 
saddled  with  one  of  their  own  ex-slaves  as  a  sheriff,  I 
want  them  to  know  that  Rufus  Upps  is  the  man  who 
did  the  saddling." 

Mr.  Gays's  eyes  were  full  of  awe-stricken  admiration 
of  his  bolder  colleague.  His  own  heart  was  steeped  in 
the  same  unholy  ambition,  but  his  timorous  soul  shrank 
appalled  from  assuming  an  avowedly  antagonistic  posi- 
tion toward  the  white  people  of  the  count)'. 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  237 

"  True,  Upps,  very  true  !  I  agree  with  you  perfect- 
ly in  every  thing  you  say,  but — " 

"  Well,  boss,  how's  you  come  on,  bof'n  you  ?  Y'hers 
me — on  time,  hen't  I?" 

This  boisterous  interruption  came  from  no  less  a  per- 
son than  Mr.  Faythliss  himself.  Mr.  Gays  left  his  pro- 
test incomplete  to  rise  and  offer  a  hand  and  word  of 
welcome  to  the  ebon-hued  candidate  for  the  shrievalty 
of  the  county.  Judge  Upps  contented  himself  with 
shoving  a  chair  toward  his  protegt  with  his  foot,  say- 
ing: 

"  Sit  down,  Faythliss.  You're  late,  but  I  suppose 
you've  never  learned  the  value  of  your  own  time  yet." 
A  subtle  intimation  that  Mr.  Faythliss's  time  had  not 
been  long  enough  at  his  own  disposal  for  him  to  be 
able  to  value  it  properly.  The  intimation  might  have 
had  an  inflammatory  effect  upon  a  finer  organism,  but 
was  completely  thrown  away  upon  the  candidate,  who 
belonged  to  low  comedy  rather  than  high  tragedy. 

"  I  b'leeves  yer,  boss,"  he  said,  with  general  accept- 
ance of  the  judge's  statement,  "  but  y'see  Sundy's  a 
sorter  off-day,  and  atter  a  nigger's  been  plow'n'  hard  all 
week  he's  mouty  ap'  t'oversleep  hisseff  uv  a  Sundy. 
En  den,  y'see,  he's  got  to  git  hisseff  up  a  little  extry, 
en  dat  'sumes  time." 

Mr.  Faythliss  shook  out  a  highly  perfumed  handker- 
chief in  testimony  to  the  fact  that  he  had  gotten  "  his- 
seff "  up  a  "  leetle  extry,"  laughed  in  an  unembarrassed. 


*38  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

hearty  way  that  showed  his  superb  white  teeth,  rested 
his  shining  black  hands  on  the  knees  of  his  new  plaid 
trowsers,  and  signified  by  a  nod  that  he  was  ready  for 
business.  "  Jim  Furniss,  he  told  me  dat  you  two  gents 
wanted  t'see  me  sorter  'tickler  this  mornin',  en  yer  I  is, 
accordin'." 

"  Faythliss,"  Judge  Upps  asked,  plunging  into  the 
subject,  "  how  would  you  like  to  be  sheriff  of  this 
county?" 

"Me!  Sher'f!  Sher'f  dis  yer  county !  Boss,  you's 
a-jokin' ! "  and  the  joke  seemed  so  much  more  easy  to 
grasp  than  the  tremendous  reality,  that  Mr.  Faythliss 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed  uproariously. 

His  superabundant  hair,  freed  from  the  bondage  of 
the  twine  strings  that  wrapped  it  about  in  a  myriad  of 
tight  coils  on  working  days,  now  radiated  in  kinky  lati- 
tude half  a  foot  in  every  direction  from  the  crown  of 
his  head,  and,  as  he  laughed,  it  seemed  to  partake  of 
his  merriment  by  an  independent  activity  of  its  own. 
"  You'se  sholy  jokin',  jedge  ! "  he  repeated,  sobered 
somewhat  by  the  angry  displeasure  in  the  judge's 
gleaming  eye.  "  I'd  lak  de  bes'  in  de  worrel  t'commo- 
date  yer,  boss,  but  I  don'  know  nuthin'  't  all  'bout  dat 
sorter  work,  Now,  ef  it  waz  t'run  a  gin  fer  yer,  er 
t'brek  er  yoke  er  steers — " 

"You  will  have  to  learn,  then,"  the  judge  interrupts, 
imperiously. 

f<  Who  gwine  learnt  me  ?  " 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  239 

«  j  " 

"  Dat's  mouty  'commodatin'  uv  yer,  boss,  'tis  dat,  sho. 
You  'low  I  could  git  'longwid  de  w'ite  folks?  I  ain' 
got  nuthin'  'g'in  de  w'ite  folks  now,  en  dey  ain'  got 
nuthin'  'g'in  me  ;  we  gits  'long  mouty  peac'ble  lak  to- 
gedder,  we  does.  How  yer  reckon  it'd  turn  out  ef  I 
wuz  t'git  to  be  sher'f  ?  " 

"  They  would  have  to  get  along  peaceably  with  you 
then,  Faythliss.  You  would  have  the  whip-hand  of 
them.  They  had  it  of  you  for  a  long  time,  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  make  you  feel  it,  either." 

"  I  b'leeves  yer,  boss."  The  smile  passed  away  as 
the  poison  took  effect,  and  a  sullen  gloom  overspread 
the  broad  features  of  the  candidate  who  was  having 
greatness  thrust  upon  him  somewhat  in  spite  of  him- 
self. "  Yer's  mouty  right  'bout  dat,  boss — I  ain'  gwine 
back  on  yer  dar." 

"  Who  did  you  belong  to,  Mr.  Faythliss,  before  the 
war?"  Mr.  Gay  asked,  in  a  voice  brimful  of  apology 
for  any  allusion  to  such  degradation. 

"  Ole  Squire  Thorn,  en  a  tight  un  he  wur,  too,"  said 
Mr.  Faythliss,  with  careless  readiness.  "  But  I  ain' 
got  nuthin'  'g'in  him,  en  he  ain'  got  nuthin'  'g'in  me. 
We's  ve'y  good  frien's,  me  en  squar." 

"  You  have  stuck  by  him,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Not  much  I  ain'.  Fse  ben  crappin'  on  a  leetle 
piece  uv  Ian'  w'ich  b'longs  to  Lawyer  Harris  down 
here.  Lawyer  Harris,  he's  a  fa'r  man  in  all  hisdealin's. 


240  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

I'll  say  dat  much  for  him  'fo'  his  face  en  'hin'  his  back 
too.  He  is,  en  no  mistake." 

"We  don't  doubt  that  for  a  moment,  Faythliss;  of 
course  he's  a  fair  man.  But  he  doesn't  treat  you  quite 
like  an  equal  now,  does  he  ?  Doesn't  invite  you  to  sit 
down  in  his  presence,  and  so  forth,  does  he  ?" 

Judge  Upps  glanced  significantly  toward  the  chair 
Mr.  Faythliss  was  then  tilting  back  on  two  legs  with 
social-equality  grace  and  freedom,  as  if  inviting  a  con- 
trast  between  his  own  treatment  of  the  colored  men 
and  Lawyer  Harris. 

"  Well,  jedge,  you's  right  ag'in.  I  lay  this  nigger 
'11  have  t'  drap  in  his  tracks  ef  he  wait  for  Lawyer  Har- 
ris t'  ax  him  ter  sot  down  in  his  presence,  or  his  par- 
lor, ary  one.  But  I  ain%  never  laid  that  up  ag'in  him 
nuther.  I  ain'  lay  nuthin'  up  ag'in  him.  He's  a  fa'r 
en  a  squar'  man,  Lawyer  Harris  is." 

Judge  Upps  paused  long  enough  to  take  in  the  con- 
tents of  a  slip  of  paper  Mr.  Gays  cunningly  threw 
under  his  eye.  He  read  on  it  : 

"  Is  not  Faythliss  rather  below  par  even  with  his  own 
color?  I  think  I  know  a  better  man  for  our  purposes. 
He  hasn't  a  grain  of  ambition." 

Mr.  Faythliss's  education  had  been  too  entirely  neg- 
lected for  him  to  observe  the  maneuver  or  resent  the 
conveyance  of  an  answer  in  a  carelessly  penciled  line 
on  the  margin  of  a  newspaper : 

"  He    is    profoundly    ignorant,    but    shrewd,    and 


MISCHIEF-MONGERS.  241 

altogether  malleable.  He  is  exactly  the  man  we 
want." 

This  decision  having  been  arrived  at  by  the  stronger 
of  the  two  men,  the  weaker  lent  himself  to  the  task  of 
sowing  the  seeds  of  political  aspirations  in  the  virgin 
soil  of  Mr.  Faythliss's  brain. 

The  candidate  gave  them  his  most  rapt  attention 
while  they  detailed  at  great  length  the  glory  and  the 
profit  that  were  to  accrue  to  him  when  he  should  con- 
quer the  shrievalty  against  the  votes  and  prejudices 
and  wishes  of  the  former  slave-owners.  They  laid  down 
very  minute  directions  for  his  walking  and  talking 
throughout  the  ordeal  of  a  canvas.  They  convinced 
him  that,  aside  from  his  own  color,  he  had  but  two  real 
friends,  and  they  were  both  before  him.  He  listened 
with  unaffected  humility  to  the  directions  for  his  con- 
duct during  the  period  of  probation,  and  "  enthused  " 
to  the  extent  of  a  very  broad  grin  when  they  painted 
the  glories  of  success  to  him  in  glowing  colors. 

And  while  they  imparted  and  he  absorbed,  the 
wheezy  melodeon  uptairs  panted  out :  "  What  shall 
the  Harvest  be?" 

What  indeed  ? 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MIND   AND   MUSCLE. 

THE  hot  summer  in  its  turn  scorched  its  way  into 
the  melancholy  days  of  autumn,  when  the  woods 
grew  brown  and  sere,  when  the  squirrels  and  the 
cawing  crows  contended  for  supremacy  about  the  upper 
branches  of  the  well-laden  pecan  trees,  enriching  by 
their  quarrelsome  competition  the  hogs  that  grunted 
about  the  roots  of  the  trees,  turning  over  the  piles  of 
dead  leaves  with  industrious  snouts,  and  the  turkeys 
that  strutted  among  the  swine  with  crimsoned  wattles 
and  indignantly  spread  tail,  resentful  of  the  necessity 
that  compelled  them  to  secure  their  own  nuts  in  such 
plebeian  company,  but,  like  many  a  featherless  aristo- 
crat, not  willing  to  forego  the  flesh-pots  for  the  sake  of 
hungry  dignity. 

The  golden-rod  and  the  purple  iron-weed  glorified 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  fences  and  roadside. 
The  paw-paw  hung  its  wild  bananas  from  every  branch 
in  tempting  profusion.  The  persimmons  strewed  the 
ground  in  impartial  and  fragrant  offering  to  man  and 
beast.  The  frost-nipped  foliage  fell  from  the  cotton- 
stalks,  leaving  the  fields  white  for  the  gathering. 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  243 

The  busy  season  was  upon  the  planters,  and  a  sort  of 
mild  activity  superseded  the  heat-burdened  lethargy  of 
the  summer.  Rude  cotton  houses,  of  brand-new 
cypress  slabs,  gleamed  redly  here  and  there  over  the 
whitening  fields.  Under  the  new  order,  each  squad 
houses  its  own  crop  separately,  to  await  its  turn  at  the 
gin,  and  as  soon  as  empty  again  it  will  either  be  con- 
verted into  firewood  by  himself  or  his  nearest  neighbor. 
The  architectural  features  of  these  structures  are 
primitive  and  slight.  It  was  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
also,  that  each  planter  awoke,  as  it  were,  to  a  surprised 
consciousness  that  his  gin  was  thoroughly  out  of  repair ; 
and,  on  the  principle  of  never  too  late  to  mend,  a 
frenzy  of  boiler-patching,  saw-sharpening,  press- 
strengthening,  band-lengthening,  stand-cleaning,  and 
brush-renewing  seized  upon  the  neighborhood,  involv- 
ing it  in  a  violent  irruption  of  industry. 

Slight  and  spasmodic  as  the  social  life  of  these 
planting  neighborhoods  generally  is,  it  is  altogether 
suspended  when  ginning  time  comes.  Then  the  planter 
spends  his  days  either  in  the  saddle,  urging  the  pro- 
priety of  picking  while  it  is  yet  day,  reminding  the 
thoughtless  that  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can 
pick,  or,  at  his  gin,  weighing,  baling,  marking,  dividing, 
shipping  the  pretentious-looking  bales  that  it  has  taken 
twelve  weary  months  to  get  ready  for  the  market. 
The  plantation  of  the  South  is  the  true  land  of  promise. 
Rarely,  however,  do  its  promises  reach  fulfillment. 


244  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

The  greatness  which  is  predicted  for  the  South  by  the 
wise  men  of  to-day  is  not  to  be  looked  for  in  its  cotton 
fields  nor  expected  of  its  agriculturists.  It  is  not  he 
who  bears  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day  to  produce 
the  staple,  patiently  dropping  its  furzy  seed,  wearily 
picking  its  hanging  fleece,  toilsomely  handling  its  iron- 
bound  lint,  who  reaps  the  golden  harvest  from  it.  No 
one  who  handles  it  but  extracts  greater  profit  from  the 
cotton  crop  than  the  planter. 

Small  wonder,  then,  that  the  faces  grouped  about 
the  various  gins  on  the  several  plantations  with  which 
this  story  has  to  do  were  not  aglow  with  that  pleasur- 
able excitement  that  bespeaks  the  harvester  content 
with  the  reward  of  his  efforts.  Rather  was  there  a 
sullen  acceptance  of  the  inevitable,  and  a  weary 
patience  born  of  often-repeated  experiences  of  a  like 
nature. 

The  prolonged  drought  which  invariably  follows  upon 
high  water  had  shortened  the  crop  materially  by  caus- 
ing it  to  shed  its  immature  "  forms."  A  wet  August 
had  given  aid  and  comfort  to  the  army-worm,  which 
had  still  further  diminished  the  hopes  of  the  planters, 
who  had  unanimously  declared  in  June  that  the  pros- 
pect was  better  than  it  had  been  at  any  time  before 
since  the  war.  Perhaps  there  is  no  crop  that  grows 
which  is  subject  to  more  vicissitudes  than  the  cotton 
crop.  Certain  it  is  there  is  no  class  of  laborers  who 
bear  those  vicissitudes  better.  There  is  a  stolid  endur. 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  245 

ance  that  comes  of  wrestling  with  adversity  which  is 
theirs.  There  is  much  in  being  inured  to  hardship  and 
disappointment.  That  much  is  theirs  in  galore.  The 
prospect  of  a  short  crop  and  poor  prices  scarcely  cast 
a  shadow  of  anxiety  over  the  freedmen.  They  would, 
in  a41  probability,  "  not  pay  out."  Scarcely  one  in 
twenty  expected  such  good  fortune.  But  the  man  to 
whom  the  land  belonged  would  have  to  feed  and  house 
them  between  the  taking  off  of  this  crop  and  the  pitch- 
ing of  the  next  one,  or  else  run  the  risk  of  finding  him- 
self handless  in  plowing  time.  Whisky  and  tobacco  might 
run  a  little  short,  and  what  of  the  crop  that  didn't  go 
to  the  New  Orleans  commission  merchant  would  be 
gobbled  up  by  the  Jews  that  hovered  about  the  gins 
like  buzzards  waiting  to  alight  on  their  prey.  But,  as 
a  delightful  offset,  the  local  elections  would  come  in  as 
soon  as  ginning  was  done,  and  the  anticipation  of  put- 
ting one  of  their  own  color  into  the  important  position 
of  sheriff  of  the  county  buoyed  them  above  the  bitter- 
ness of  empty  pockets  and  a  balance  on  the  wrong  side 
of  the  ledger.  So  they  went  about  the  task  of  picking 
out  and  baling  the  crop  already  overdue,  with  a  heed- 
less haste  to  get  it  off  hand,  so  they  might  give  their 
undivided  attention  to  more  important  things. 

Mr.  Sam  Faythliss's  candidacy  had  long  since  been 
publicly  announced,  and,  as  his  opponent  was  a  one- 
armed  relic  of  the  Civil  War  on  the  Confederate  side, 
Sam's  election  was  considered  a  foregone  conclusion. 


246  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

It  was  the  anticipation  of  this  same  election  that 
intensified  the  gloomy  apprehension  of  the  white 
planters.  They  looked  forward  to  a  winter  of  discon- 
tent, signalized  by  short  crops,  low  prices,  and  the  dis- 
order of  a  local  election,  which  had  for  its  object  the 
placing  in  authority  over  them  of  one  of  the  most  igno- 
rant of  their  own  ex-slaves. 

Left  to  themselves,  there  was  nothing  to  apprehend 
from  the  negroes,  but  it  was  tacitly  understood  that 
Upps  and  Gays  were  the  powers  behind  the  throne,  and 
every  man's  conscience  now  smote  him  with  the  mem- 
ory of  countless  exasperations  to  hatred  and  revenge 
given  these  two  unscrupulous  adventurers. 

In  short,  the  gravity  of  the  situation  was  so  extreme 
that  nothing  but  a  "  good  long  talk "  with  Denny 
appeared  at  all  adequate  to  Mr.  Southmead's  need 
under  the  circumstances. 

An  impalpable  something  arising  out  of  an  impalpa- 
ble nothing  had  floated  palpably  between  the  major 
and  Ursula  Ralston,  obscuring  the  friendly  clearness 
of  the  atmosphere,  casting  a  slight  chill  into  Mrs. 
Ralston's  manner,  which  the  new  man  at  Rossmere  had 
not  been  slow  to  detect  and  to  act  upon. 

"  It  is  not  as  if  I  were  an  ordinary  wooer,"  he  said  to 
himself,  meditatively,  not  uncheerfully,  over  this  subtle 
alteration  in  his  status,  and  boldly  avowing  to  himself 
that  some  of  these  days  he  intended  to  offer  himself  to 
the  gentle  widow  at  Tievina.  "  They've  only  accepted 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  247 

me  on  sufferance  so  far,  and  I'd  rather  they'd  sift  me  at 
their  own  leisure,  and  take  me  for  what  I'm  worth 
finally." 

Determination  and  patience  entered  in  about  equal 
proportions  into  Stirling  Denny's  composition.  He 
was  content  to  bide  his  time  uncomplainingly.  No 
one  knew  just  exactly  how  it  came  to  happen,  but  hap- 
pen it  did,  that  whenever  any  thing  needed  to  be  dis- 
cussed with  the  major,  Mr.  Southmead  rode  over  to 
Rossmere  to  discuss  it.  As  for  Frederic,  well,  Fred 
had  never  been  quite  weaned  away  from  Rossmere 
since  he  had  grown  so  fond  of  its  dusty  old  books  and 
its  new  master  in  the  days  of  the  latter's  illness ;  and 
as  the  boy  and  the  man  came  to  be  knitted  together 
in  the  bonds  of  closest  friendship,  Fred  was  fond  of 
saying,  "  it  was  almost  impossible  to  decide  whether 
the  major's  greatest  strength  lay  in  his  mind  or  in  his 
muscle." 

In  the  yard  at  Rossmere  stood  a  triplet  of  grand  old 
oaks  at  right  angles  to  each  other.  Under  these  oaks 
was  the  major's  workshop.  Not  an  amateurish  affair 
into  which  he  retired  when  weary  with  intellectual 
labor,  to  refresh  himself  by  playing  at  work,  but  a  ver- 
itable smithy  and  carpenter's  shop  combined,  from 
which,  working  on  scientific  methods  and  from  ap- 
proved models,  he  had  turned  out  several  row-boats  and 
shells  which  were  the  admiration  of  the  neighborhood. 
He  was  teaching  Fred  a  good  deal  that  was  to  the 


248  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

benefit  of  his  brawn.  It  was  a  revelation  to  the  boy 
that  mental  culture  and  physical  effort  could  be  so  hap- 
pily blended  in  one  possessor.  That  there  was  a  dig- 
nity in  labor  and  a  virtue  in  self-help  was  another  one 
of  the  revolutionary  ideas  he  imbibed  from  the  new 
man  at  Rossmere.  Reared  among  the  traditions  of 
ante-bellum  days,  and  surrounded  by  a  people  so  re- 
cently come  into  liberty  that  they  made  no  practical 
use  of  it,  to  Frederic  it  seemed  quite  a  matter-of-course 
to  delegate  every  disagreeable  duty  to  an  inferior.  He 
at  first  gazed  with  more  wonder  than  admiration  at  the 
man  who,  with  a  hundred  blacks  zealous  to  do  his 
slightest  bidding,  habitually  saddled  his  own  horse  or 
rowed  his  own  skiff.  These  were  menial  offices  in 
Fred's  eyes.  But  the  time  soon  came  when  wonder 
at  any  thing  Stirling  chose  to  do,  was  merged  into  ad- 
miration and  unquestioning  acceptance  of  his  new 
friend  as  he  was. 

When  Mr.  Southmead  reached  Rossmere  on  the 
occasion  in  question,  Aunt  Maria,  Stirling's  cook,  was 
the  only  person  visible  about  the  house.  By  her  he 
was  told  to  look  for  the  folks  in  the  shop,  which  he 
proceeded  to  do.  Two  men,  in  blue  plaid  cotton 
blowses,  were  dealing  swinging  alternate  blows  upon  a 
piece  of  red-hot  iron  on  the  anvil  in  the  shop.  Two 
pairs  of  muscular  arms  were  bared  to  the  elbow,  and 
two  pairs  of  laughing  eyes  noted  the  amazement  on  the 
visitor's  face. 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  249 

"Hillo!"  called  Mr.  Southmead,  standing  just  out 
of  range  of  the  hammer. 

"  Hillo  yourself!  "  the  major  sang  out,  bringing  his 
sledge  down  on  the  glowing  metal  with  tremendous 
force.  "  Can't  stop  just  now.  Must  strike  while  the 
iron's  hot.  Make  yourself  at  home." 

Which  last  Mr.  Southmead  proceeded  to  do  by  seat- 
ing himself  astride  a  tool-bench  to  await  their  leisure. 
He  regarded  Fred  in  his  novel  role  of  blacksmith  as 
quite  an  improvement  upon  the  languid  loiterer  of  a 
few  months  back,  and  felt  honestly  grateful  to  Major 
Denny  for  the  marked  improvement  in  his  son. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked,  as  the  two  smiths  stopped 
to  rest  and  wipe  their  moistened  brows. 

"  Only  a  little  boiler-patching,"  said  the  major.  "  I 
find  my  boiler  not  quite  safe  ;  and  as  the  crack  is  too 
insignificant  to  warrant  the  delay  and  expense  of  send- 
ing all  the  way  to  Vicksburg  for  a  boiler-mender,  Fred 
and  I  concluded  to  try  our  own  hands  at  it." 

"  With  what  success  ?  " 

"  Capital.  We've  resolved  ourselves  into  a  mutual 
admiration  society,  and  are  quite  willing  to  put  our 
patchwork  on  exhibition  by  the  side  of  any  your  pro- 
fessionals are  doing  for  you  at  Tievina.  Are  you  ready 
to  start  your  gin  ?  " 

"  Not  by  a  good  deal.  From  present  prospects,  that 
fellow  I've  got  fixing  my  gin-brushes  will  about  be  done 
the  day  after  Christmas.  My  hopper  is  packed  with 


250  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

seed-cotton  to  its  utmost  capacity  now,  and  the  delay  is 
most  vexatious." 

"You  didn't  get  at  it  soon  enough,"  said  the  major, 
laughing. 

"  Soon  enough.  How  was  I  to  know  the  rats  had 
played  the  wild  with  my  brushes?  I  thought  I  was 
ready  for  ginning,  if  there  wasn't  another  man  in  the 
bed  of  the  lake  who  was." 

"The  rat  is  a  predaceous  rodent,"  the  major  said, 
oracularly,  "  with  a  healthy  appetite  for  every  thing  that 
offers,  from  a  dairy  cheese  to  a  gin-brush,  which  latter 
delicacy  certainly  is  caviare  to  the  general.  He  had 
better  have  given  us  the  job,  Fred." 

"  Yes,  we'd  have  saved  you  time  and  money, 
father." 

"  Both  of  which  are  scarce  and  valuable  articles,  but, 
I  say,  aren't  you  both  growing  a  little  conceited  on  the 
strength  of  that  patch  ?  I  don't  believe  you  know  any 
thing  about  gin  stands  or  brushes." 

"  We  propose  to  put  those  in  ourselves." 

The  major  pointed  to  a  lot  of  loose  brushes  on  a  work- 
bench behind  the  doubter.  Mr.  Southmead  looked 
admiringly  from  them  to  the  ruddy  cheeks  of  his  recon- 
structed boy. 

"It  beats  Plato  and  Virgil— eh,  Fred?" 

"We're  not  so  modernized  as  to  go  back  on  the 
ancients  in  that  fashion,"  says  Stirling,  answering  for 
both,  "  and  we  pay  our  respects  to  Plato  every  evening 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  251 

by  way  of  refreshment.  I  am  afraid  Mrs.  Southmead 
will  never  forgive  me  Fred's  hardened  hands." 

"  Nor  me  this  blue  shirt,"  says  Fred,  laughing.  "  Coz 
made  it  surreptitiously  for  me.  I'm  afraid,  if  mother 
had  known  its  final  destination,  it  would  have  produced 
a  regular  bloody-shirt  excitement." 

Mr.  Southmead's  face  suddenly  grew  grave. 

"  Mention  of  the  '  bloody  shirt,'  Denny,  suggests  the 
real  object  of  my  ride  over  here  this  morning.  I  am 
afraid  we  are  going  to  have  the  very  mischief  to  pay 
over  the  fall  elections.  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you  on 
that  very  subject." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  I  haven't  been  paying 
much  attention  to  the  subject  myself,  but  Craycraft  has 
been  going  to  the  village  pretty  often  of  late  and  I 
rather  gathered  from  him  that  the  colored  people  were 
decidedly  lukewarm  in  the  matter  of  this  coming  elec- 
tion. What  makes  you  think  differently  ?  " 

"Craycraft  does  not  know  them.  The  negro  lives 
exclusively  in  the  present.  He  has  no  regrets  for  the 
past  nor  aspirations  for  the  future.  They  are  like  chil- 
dren not  given  to  profound  or  prolonged  consideration 
of  any  thing  which  does  not  have  to  be  decided  in  the 
present.  But,  again  like  children,  they  are  ready  for 
any  amount  of  mischief  their  leaders  may  choose  to 
map  out  for  them." 

"  But  are  not  their  leaders  as  childishly  inconsequent 
as  themselves?" 


252  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  You  evidently  do  not  know  who  their  leaders 
are." 

"  No,  I  confess  to  my  profound  ignorance.  The  local 
politics  of  the  section  have  not  appealed  to  me  with  any 
force.  Perhaps  I  am  to  blame  for  taking  too  little 
interest  in  the  subject.  Enlighten  me." 

"The  power  behind  the  throne  is  Judge  Upps." 

"  Upps  !  You  surprise  me.  And  Gays  ?  I  believe 
they  pull  in  the  same  boat." 

"And  Gays.     But  Upps  is  stroke  oar." 

"What  special  interest  have  they  in  the  matter?" 

"  Their  chief  end  in  life  at  present  is  to  punish  the 
white  people  of  the  community  for  their  own  social 
ostracism.  Upps  is  a  man  of  considerable  polish  and 
more  ambition." 

"  But  perhaps  the  election  of  Faythliss  will  not  prove 
a  punishment.  His  duties  will  be  exclusively  func- 
tional, and  his  ignorance  will  compel  the  appointment 
of  a  deputy.  So  that  if  you  secure  a  good  deputy, 
things  may  go  smoother  than  you  hope  for,  even  with 
poor  old  Sam  as  nominal  sheriff." 

"  Who  would  serve  as  deputy  under  a  negro  ?  "  asked 
Frederic  with  hot  scorn. 

"  I  would,"  the  major  answered,  with  cool  delibera- 
tion. 

"  You  !  "  the  boy  asked  flushing  with  embarrassment, 
and  wondering  uneasily  if  his  idol  was  about  to  topple 
to  the  ground. 


MIi\'D  AND  MUSCLE.  253 

"  You,  Denny  !  "  his  father  echoed,  "  with  your  refine- 
ment, your  education,  your  brain  !  " 

"  I,  with  the  educational  qualifications  which  would 
be  all  the  more  necessary  to  supply  the  deficiency  in 
him.  But,  as  Mr.  Faythliss  is  not  likely  to  arrive  at 
the  dignity  of  sheriff  soon,  I  am  premature  in  bespeak- 
ing office  under  him,"  he  added,  in  lighter  vein. 

"  You  are  mistaken  there.  His  chances  are  better 
than  good." 

"  What  sort  of  a  fellow  is  he  ? "  the  major  asked, 
reflectively,  examining  a  long  iron  spike  he  had  picked 
up  off  the  floor. 

"  A  harmless  fool  if  left  to  himself.  As  dangerous  as 
dynamite  in  the  hands  of  Upps  and  Gays." 

"Aren't  you  a  little  fanciful,  Southmead?  Perhaps 
you  credit  these  two  gentlemen  with  more  gall  than 
they  are  responsible  for.  How  would  it  advance  their 
interests  to  stir  up  strife  in  your  midst?  " 

"  Revenge  is  sweet,  and — well,  we've  all  shown  those 
two  fellows  that  we  hardly  thought  them  worth 
kicking." 

"  Which  wasn't  the  part  of  wisdom,"  the  major  said, 
with  grave  eyes,  but  a  jocular  voice.  "  Have  you  ever 
discussed  the  political  outlook  with  your  people  ?" 

"  With  my  darkeys  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  No.  I'd  as  soon  think  of  haranguing  the  mules  in 
the  lot." 


254  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"There's  where  you  damage  yourself,  Southmead, 
and  play  into  the  hands  of  your  enemies.  If  the  white 
men  of  the  South  would  only  promptly  recognize  that, 
so  long  as  the  franchise  has  been  bestowed,  its  enlight- 
ened use  should  be  their  own  most  earnest  lookout, 
these  carpet-baggers,  whom  I  detest  with  a  fervor  to 
which  your  dislike  is  mild,  would  find  themselves  pow- 
erless for  evil.  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  very  remiss — 
selfishly  so." 

"  Perhaps  we've  all  been.  I  must  confess  a  darkey's 
vote  has  heretofore  been  a  clumsy  joke  to  me.  It  is 
hard  for  us  to  take  his  citizenship  seriously." 

"  I  can  imagine  that.  I  can  conceive  of  the  soreness 
attending  the  present  state  of  things.  Believe  me, 
friend,  I  am  not  indifferent  to  your  view  of  it  "  (Stir- 
ling looked  into  the  troubled  eyes  of  his  friend  with 
sincere  affection),  "  and  I'll  prove  it  to  you  by  throw- 
ing myself  into  this  election  with  more  heart.  If  these 
colored  citizens  of  ours  are  indeed  the  leadable  children 
you  say  they  are,  well  then  we  must  lead  them  aright. 

"  Fred,  what  do  you  say  to  knocking  off  work  for 
to-day  and  taking  a  holiday?  I'm  free  to  confess  your 
father  has  scattered  my  fit  of  industry."  He  rose  from 
the  trestle  where  he  had  been  facing  Mr.  Southmead, 
and  pulled  his  sleeves  down.  "  I've  a  mind  to  have  up 
some  of  the  boys  from  my  own  quarters  and  sound 
them  in  the  Upps-Gays  issue." 

"  Do  so,  and  you  will  find  these  two  men  have  gained 


MIND  AND  MUSCLE.  255 

an  amount  of  influence  marvelous,  considering  the 
length  of  time  they  have  been  in  the  county." 

"  No.  Not  marvelous.  They  have  flattered  the 
freedmen  with  a  picture  of  social  equality  which  no 
doubt  has  been  very  agreeable  to  them.  We  all  have 
our  little  weaknesses — why  not  Sambo  his?  " 

Laughing  into  the  anxious  faces  of  his  companions, 
the  major  turned  the  key  in  the  padlock  of  his  shop 
while  speaking,  and  then  led  the  way  back  to  the 
house. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ELECTION   DAY. 

ELECTION  day  dawned  ! 
It  dawned  in  a  gray,  sad,  misty  fashion  ;  with 
low-hung  clouds  overhead  ;  a  dismal,  marrow-penetra- 
ting atmosphere  everywhere ;  a  mournful  rustling 
among  the  leafless  branches  of  the  forest  trees  ;  and  a 
general  diffusion  of  physical  discomfort,  calculated  to 
dampen  the  ardor  of  any  pursuit  less  independent  of 
atmospheric  influences  than  the  pursuit  of  political 
preferment  or — revenge  ! 

Judge  Rufus  Upps  was  earlier  on  the  go,  on  that 
eventful  morning,  than  was  even  his  industrious  habit. 
He  gave  but  a  glance  at  the  leaden-gray  sky  overhead 
as  he  came  out  of  his  room,  dressed  with  more  than 
his  usual  regard  for  an  imposing  appearance,  and 
stood  upon  the  low,  unrailed,  unsheltered  portico  in 
front  of  his  lodging-house,  paring  his  nails  with  that 
deliberation  that  goes  with  the  knowledge  of  having  to 
wait  a  tedious  while  for  one's  breakfast. 

He  shivered  when  the  raw  atmosphere  promptly 
penetrated  his  tweed-covered  back  and  reached  his 
spinal  column  with  chilling  force  ;  but  that  one  shiver 


ELE  C  TION  DAY.  257 

was  only  a  tribute  of  weakness  to  a  climate  that  was 
fuller  of  terrors  for  him  than  all  its  inhabitants  com- 
bined. The  weather  gave  him  no  particular  concern, 
for  he  knew  the  caliber  of  the  class  he  had  been  manip- 
ulating for  months  past  too  well  to  apprehend  any 
holding  back  on  account  of  a  leaden  sky  or  a  raw  wind. 
His  was  no  kid-glove  constituency,  and  he  had  been  ply- 
ing them  with  the  leaven  of  discontent  until  they  had 
responded  by  a  most  promising  show  of  fermentation. 

As  early  as  it  was,  the  streets  of  the  village  already 
gave  indication  that  an  event  of  unusual  interest  was 
about  to  transpire.  Colored  men  and  women  in  about 
equal  proportions,  mounted  on  mules,  crowded  in 
wagons,  or  trudging  afoot,  some  in  rags  and  some  in 
tags  and  some  in  gorgeous  gowns,  were  already  thickly 
dotting  the  road  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  in  every 
direction,  landward.  As  many  as  half  a  dozen  skiffs, 
flats,  and  dug-outs,  loaded  to  the  water's  edge  with  a 
human  cargo,  stirred  the  still,  gray  waters  of  the  lake. 
The  balloting  was  not  to  begin  before  ten  or  eleven 
o'clock,  but  the  pursuit  of  ordinary  occupations  was 
altogether  out  of  the  question  for  that  day,  and  the  pick- 
ing sacks  and  baskets  of  these  dusky  Cincinnatuses 
were  left  standing  in  the  fields  just  where  they  had 
been  dropped  when  their  owners  had  stopped  work 
to  settle  the  affairs  of  state. 

"Fools!" 

Judge  Upps  passed  his  strong,  sinewy  hand  through 


258  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  7'  ROSSMERE. 

his  red  hair  with  a  clutching  rather  than  a  caressing 
motion  as  he  uttered  this  monosyllable  with  vicious 
emphasis.  Perhaps  it  applied  to  the  crowds  of  illiterate 
voters  who  were  flocking  by,  eager  to  do  his  bidding  at 
the  polls  that  day,  but  whose  constantly  recurring 
"  Mornin',  boss  !  "  seemed  rather  to  irritate  his  temper 
than  soothe  his  vanity.  Perhaps  it  applied  to  the  white 
people,  who  had  added  one  more  to  their  many  nat- 
ural errors  during  the  bewildering  period  of  recon- 
struction by  making  an  enemy  of  such  men  as  himself, 
instead  of  using  him  as  effectually  as  he  was  now 
bent  on  using  their  old  slaves. 

Not  a  few  of  the  harassed  natives  had  come  to  that 
conclusion  themselves  before  the  dawning  of  that 
dreary  November  election  day.  But  somber  retro- 
spection is  the  most  unavailing  of  all  mental  exercises. 
It  was  pardonable  that  these  sorely  tried  men  took 
refuge  in  violent  denunciation  of  every  thing  and 
every  body  connected  with  the  nomination  of  Fayth- 
liss,  and  in  declaring,  with  vehement  determination,  at 
the  eleventh  hour,  that  to  submit  to  this  election  was 
to  brand  themselves  with  eternal  infamy  and  to  render 
life  in  the  old  land  practically  unendurable.  The  de- 
termination that  Faythliss  should  not  be  the  next 
sheriff  of  the  county  was  fixed  in  their  minds.  How  it 
was  to  be  prevented  was  a  point  upon  which  they  were 
a  trifle  befogged.  The  determination  that  Faythliss 
should  be  the  next  sheriff  of  the  county  was  equally 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  259 

strong  in  the  minds  of  Rufus  Upps  and  his  dusky  fol- 
lowing. How  it  was  to  be  accomplished  was  a  point 
upon  which  he  was  not  at  all  befogged. 

To  accept  the  inevitable  quietly  is  the  mark  of  a 
wise  man.  To  accept  it  gracefully  is  the  mark  of  a 
wiser  one.  But  wise  men  are  scarcer  than  rubies  in 
these  degenerate  days.  Long  before  the  plantation 
bells,  clanging  from  force  of  habit,  proclaimed  the  hour 
of  noon,  the  little  village  by  the  lake  swarmed  with  a 
laughing,  frowning,  jostling,  talking,  excited  throng  of 
blacks,  the  tremendous  numerical  preponderance  of 
which  over  the  handful  of  grave-faced  white  men  was 
significant  of  the  fact  of  a  "walk-over"  for  Mr.  Fayth- 
liss  and  a  corresponding  defeat  for  his  one-armed  op- 
ponent. 

Judge  Upps  and  his  confrere,  Mr.  Gays,  seemed 
ubiquitous.  Wherever  two  or  three  were  grouped  to- 
gether, discussing  the  questionable  wisdom  of  "runnin' 
foul  uv  de  w'ite  folks  wa  t  hel'  de  sto'room  keys,"  Judge 
Upps,  divining  their  wavering  purpose  by  the  per- 
plexity stamped  on  their  untutored  foreheads,  would 
suddenly  appear  in  their  midst,  and,  by  adroitly  lead- 
ing them  to  recall  the  trials  and  indignities  inflicted 
upon  them  by  these  very  men  in  other  days,  would  fire 
their  ignorant  hearts  with  a  desire  to  return  trial  for 
trial,  indignity  for  indignity,  sealing  their  resolve  to 
exalt  one  of  their  own  color  to  a  high  estate  inde- 
pendently of  any  fitness  for  the  office,  the  absence  of 


260  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

which  in  the  candidate  was  apparent  even  to  their  ig- 
norant comprehension.  If,  in  another  spot,  perhaps  a 
dozen  or  more  freedmen,  with  the  words  of  better 
counselors  still  dwelling  in  their  memories,  were  sur- 
reptitiously haranguing  a  group  of  their  own  color  upon 
the  wrong  and  ingratitude  of  "  turnin'  ag'in  the  w'ite 
folks  that  fotch  'em  up,"  Mr.  Gays,  with  restless  hands 
and  insinuating  voice,  was  sure  to  probe  his  way 
promptly  into  their  midst,  when  he  would  skillfully 
turn  the  haranguer  into  a  huge  joke  for  the  benefit  of 
his  derisive  comrades. 

It  soon  became  evident  to  the  most  sanguine 
that  victory  was  about  to  perch  on  Mr.  Faythliss's  ban- 
ner. 

"  You  know,"  said  Mr.  Southmead,  addressing  a 
group  of  sober-browed  citizens  collected  on  the  gallery 
of  Mr.  Harris's  law  office,  "if  we  knew  how  to  fling 
mud,  our  chances  of  blackening  Sam  and  lessening  his 
chances  would  be  much  better." 

"Do  you  think  any  amount  of  mud-flinging  could 
intensify  Sam's  physical  blackness,  or  damage  his  no- 
reputation  materially  ?  He  is  absolutely  unassailable 
from  the  ordinary  politician's  points  of  attack,"  Manton 
Craycraft  said,  laughing  derisively  ;  then  to  the  squire  : 
"You  ought  to  be  pretty  well  posted  as  to  his  private 
record." 

"  Private  record.  He  ain't  got  none,  the  black  ras- 
cal," The  squire  swelled  with  impotent  rage.  "  I'd 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  261 

like  to  help  his  record  by  a  touch  of  these  'ere  boots  of 
mine,  which  he's  blacked  more  times  than  he  can 
count.  I'd  be  willin'  to  let  him  arrest  me  when  he 
gits  to  be  sheriff  just  for  the  privilege  of  kickin'  him 
round  that  court-house  yard  oncet.  Sam.  Him  that  I 
raised  right  yonder  in  a  nigger  cabin  on  Thorndale, 
and  owned  his  mammy  and  his  daddy  before  him.  I 
bought  'em  out  in  Alabama,  and  a  good-for-nothinger, 
triflinger  lot  never  was  bunched  together  under  one 
roof.  Sam  sheriff.  B'  gad,  gentlemen,  it's  more'n  a 
man  at  my  time  of  life  ought  to  be  called  on  to  stand, 
and,  b'  gad,  gentlemen,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  it 
either." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  Craycraft 
asked,  with  an  exasperating  sneer  in  his  voice. 

"  Do.  What  am  I  goin'  to  do  about  it,  Craycraft  ? 
I  can't  just  say  now  what  I'm  goin'  to  do,  only  he'd 
better  keep  out  of  my  sight,  Craycraft,  he  had,  indeed, 
if  them  fools  do  elect  him.  By  George,  I  ain't  so  old 
that  I  ain't  dangerous  when  I'm  stirred  up,  Craycraft, 
and  if  Sam  darst  speak  to  me  after  he's  elected,  I'll — 
I'll — I  believe  I'd  slap  his  sassy  jaws.  I  will,  byjingo, 
Craycraft." 

"  Slapping  Sam  Faythliss,  who  used  to  black  your 
boots,  and  slapping  the  jaws  of  the  county  sheriff,  are 
two  very  different  undertakings.  Sheriffs  don't  submit 
to  corporal  punishment  amiably,  squire,  and  Mr. 
Faythliss  is  not  apt  to  prove  an  exception,"  Stirling 


262  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Denny  said,  hastily  interposing  to  prevent  further  exas- 
peration of  the  old  man's  temper  by  Manton,  who,  he 
could  see,  was  ready  with  a  fresh  taunt,  rather  enjoying 
the  sport  of  baiting  the  old  squire. 

Craycraft's  was  the  only  individuality  the  squire  ever 
recognized  in  a  group  of  men ;  he  turned  toward  him 
now,  to  say,  with  mocking  bitterness : 

"  Mr.  Faythliss.  Where  the  deuce  do  you  suppose 
he  picked  up  that  name,  Craycraft?  There  wasn't 
never  any  misters  on  the  old  plantation  where  Sam  was 
brought  up." 

"  His  sponsors  in  baptism  gave  it  to  him,  I  suppose," 
says  Manton,  lightly. 

"  His  sponsors  in  devilment,  you'd  better  say.  Upps 
manufactured  it  for  him.  Upps,  or  that  lantern-jawed 
sneak-thief  of  a  Gays." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Manton,  rising  and  reaching  over 
the  squire's  shoulder  for  his  hat  on  the  table  behind 
him,  "if  invective  and  expletive  were  all  that  was  neces- 
sary to  defeat  Faythliss,  you'd  have  it  all  your  own 
way,  squire.  You  might  just  sit  here  and  curse  him  out 
of  office.  What  a  pityyour  vocabulary  is  so  unavailing." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  the  old  man  asked,  with 
childish  interest  in  every  movement  made  by  his 
favorite. 

"  I  believe  I  will  walk  up  town  and  see  how  things 
are  going,"  Manton  said,  addressing  his  answer  to  the 
entire  group. 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  263 

The  squire  rose  promptly,  and  put  his  own  hat  on. 
"  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  You  had  better  stay  where  you  are,  squire.     You 

« 

are  not  likely  to  do  any  good  up  yonder,  and  you 
might  get  yourself  into  trouble." 

It  was  Mr.  Southmead  who  gave  this  good  advice, 
but  it  fell  upon  stony  ground. 

"  Trouble.  Me  get  into  trouble.  What  sorter 
trouble?  D'ye  suppose  I'm  any  more  afeared  of  these 
blasted  free  niggers  than  I  used  to  be  when  they 
b'longed  to  me?"  he  asked,  valorously  punctuating 
his  remarks  with  the  ferule  of  his  cane  on  the  office 
floor. 

"  Your  being  afraid  or  being  not  afraid  has  no  bear- 
ing on  the  question,  squire.  You  are  not  cool-headed 
enough  to  be  trusted.  You  had  better  stay  where  you 
are.  There  are  more  interests  than  yours  at  stake  just 
now." 

The  old  man  glanced  at  this  new  adviser  with  a 
malignant  scowl.  It  was  Stirling  Denny,  the  man 
whom  of  all  others  he  hated  with  a  most  intense 
bitterness. 

"Your  int'res'  in  my  welfare  is  sorter  touchin', 
major,"  he  said,  with  what  was  meant  for  biting  scorn. 
"  P'raps  my  head  isn't  quite  as  cool  as  it  might  'a'  ben 
if  I'd  ben  born  on  the  other  side  of  Mason  an'  Dixon's 
line  ;  and  sometimes  I  do  get  a  little  rampageous, 
mos'  specially  when  I  fin'  my  wife's  ben  a-visitin' 


264  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

invalid  gentlemen  at  raytner  unseasonable  hours  ;  but 
in  the  long  run  I  b'leeve  I  generally  manage  to  keep  a 
level  head  on  my  shoulders.  Sorry  to  keep  you 
waitin',  Craycraft.  I'm  at  your  service.  Gen-tle-men 
— your  most  obedient." 

With  a  flourish  of  his  soiled  white  felt  hat,  as  a 
fitting  peroration  to  this  oratorical  display,  the  squire 
shuffled  down  the  steps  after  Manton,  who  had  reached 
the  gate  and  was  waiting  for  him. 

The  major  flushed  darkly  at  this  brutal  allusion  to 
Agnes,  made  by  the  man  to  whom  her  good  name 
should  have  been  dearer  than  life.  He  threw  his  cigar- 
stump  to  a  long  distance,  and  sat  twisting  and  chewing 
his  thick  mustache  savagely. 

"  There's  no  fool  like  an  old  one,  I  suppose,"  he  said 
presently.  "  That  one,  however,"  he  added,  anxiously, 
"  has  a  bombshell  in  his  hand  which,  if  thrown,  will 
involve  his  own  people  in  endless  misery.  He  has  it 
in  him  to  insult  Faythliss  on  sight,  and  in  the  present 
excited  condition  of  the  negroes  there's  no  knowing 
where  the  folly  may  end." 

"  You  overrate  the  negro's  sense  of  personal  dig- 
nity," said  Lawyer  Harris,  passing  his  cigar-box  once 
more  round  the  circle.  "  I  am  in  hopes  that  your 
friend  will  be  able  to  keep  the  squire  within  bounds, 
but  if  he  were  to  carry  his  foolish  threat  of  slapping 
Sam's  jaws  into  execution,  I  doubt  if  any  thing  more 
serious  than  a  few  rough  words  or  loud  threats  would 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  265 

ensue.  As  many  would  laugh  at  Sam  as  be  angry  for 
him,  and  there  it  would  end." 

Lawyer  Harris  was  noted  for  the  airily  sanguine 
view  he  took  of  all  future  possibilities.  Intelligent  to 
the  point  of  shrewdness,  possessed  of  a  clear  judgment 
and  astute  reasoning  faculties,  he  was  yet  given  to 
prophesying  the  invariable  coming  of  the  rainbow  after 
every  transient  cloud. 

"  I  hope  you  may  be  right  and  I  wrong,"  the  major 
answered,  soberly  ;  "  nevertheless,  I  should  feel  better 
satisfied  at  this  moment  if  Thorn  was  safely  housed  at 
Thorndale." 

"  Why,  Denny,  I  believe  you  are  nervous  !  "  Mr. 
Southmead  said,  turning  a  pair  of  surprised  eyes  full 
upon  the  young  man's  disturbed  countenance. 

"  I  believe  I  come  as  near  experiencing  that  sensa- 
tion just  now  as  ever  before  in  my  life,"  he  replied, 
calmly. 

"You  are  in  no  danger,"  one  of  the  men  said,  with 
cruel  subtle  emphasis  on  the  pronoun. 

Never  had  the  perfect  self-command  of  the  "new 
man  "  been  put  to  a  severer  test.  He  did  not  care  to 
remind  them  that  he  had  been  not  only  of  them  but 
with  them  in  every  thing  that  had  touched  the  public 
weal  since  his  settlement  in  the  county.  He  did  not 
care  to  make  a  boast  before  them  that  he  had  never 
experienced  a  thrill  of  personal  fear  in  all  his  life.  He 
did  not  care  to  reproach  them  by  confessing  to  fears 


266  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

for  their  wives  and  children  that  had  not  yet  stirred 
their  own  careless  pulses.  He  simply  fixed  his  calm 
gray  eyes  upon  the  last  speaker  for  one  silent  second, 
then  said  : 

"  I  hope  I  am  not." 

Eut  the  man  who  had  heedlessly  sent  that  shaft  into 
his  generous  heart  felt  the  fullness  of  the  rebuke  con- 
veyed by  those  keen  eyes  and  simple  words,  and  blush- 
ing hotly,  made  the  amende  awkwardly  enough. 

"  Confound  it,  Denny,  you  can  make  a  man  feel 
small  enough  to  crawl  through  an  auger  hole." 

"  The  major  never  bores  one,  though,"  says  Mr. 
Southmead,  recklessly  coming  to  the  rescue  with  a  bad 
pun.  And  every  body  laughs  in  a  relieved  fashion. 

In  the  meantime,  Squire  Thorn,  leaning  heavily  on 
Manton's  arm,  was  making  his  way  through  the  densely 
packed  throng  of  colored  men  that  surged  about  the 
court-yard  impatiently  awaiting  the  first  returns  from 
the  ballot-boxes. 

The  old  man  breathed  in  a  heavy,  snorting  fashion, 
bringing  his  cane  down  sonorously  in  unison  with  every 
hard  drawn  breath.  His  face  was  purple  with  sup- 
pressed excitement,  and  the  hand  that  rested  on  Man- 
ton's  arm  trembled  perceptibly.  His  shaggy  brows 
almost  met  in  the  intensity  of  his  frowning  displeasure 
at  such  an  upheaval  of  the  olden  ways,  and  the  eyes 
beneath  them  radiated  savage  gleams  as  a  red-hot  fur- 
nace radiates  heat. 


ELECTION  DAY.  267 

The  younger  man  carried  himself  with  easy  indiffer- 
ence to  the  excitement.  He  had  knocked  about  the 
world  too  much  to  regard  this  village  epoch  as  more 
than  a  tempest  in  a  teapot.  The  final  outcome  was  a 
matter  of  no  importance  to  him.  He  did  not  share  the 
race  prejudices  of  these  people  among  whom  he  was 
sojourning,  and  looked  upon  the  universal  indignation 
among  the  white  people  at  Faythliss's  candidacy  as  a 
weak  display  of  passion  and  prejudice  altogether  dis- 
proportioned  to  the  occasion.  The  ignorance  of  the 
candidate  was  the  only  rational  objection  to  his  elec- 
tion, from  Manton's  point  of  view.  In  the  meantime 
the  whole  thing  was  immensely  amusing  to  him — the 
best  fun  he'd  seen,  indeed,  since  coming  to  the  county. 

"  I'd  like  to  slay  'em,  Craycraft,  if  I  could,  every 
mother's  son  of  'em,"  the  squire  croaked  hoarsely  into 
his  companion's  ear. 

"  I  don't  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  Manton  answered, 
laughing  down  into  the  dark  and  angry  face  by  his 
side.  "  What  a  pity  the  ass's  jaw-bone  miracle  can't 
be  repeated  with  you  for  a  Samson.  Ah,  here  comes 
Mr.  Faythliss  himself." 

"  Mr.  Faythliss !  "  the  squire  echoed,  with  ineffable 
scorn. 

Sam  caught  the  courteous  words,  without  mastering 

the  underlying  sarcasm,  and  approached,  radiant  with 

'   pride  and  pleasure.  Raising  his  brand-new  hat  with  airy 

grace  from  its  nest  of  radiating  wool,  he  extended  his 


268  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

hand  in  what  was  meant  as  a  token  of  good  fellowship 
and  pardon  for  all  past  offenses  on  the  squire's  part. 

"  How  does  you  fin'  yo'seff,  squar  ?  "  he  asked,  cor- 
dially. "  It  does  me  proud  t'  have  you  tek  sich  a 
frien'ly  intruss  in  my  'lection.  I  ain'  gwine  t'  forgit 
you,  boss,  w'en  dis  rail  gits  to  be  on  top.  I  ain'  got 
nuthin'  'gin  de  white  folks,"  he  magnanimously  added, 
addressing  himself  to  Manton,  "  nothin'  't  all.  Boss, 
here,"  nodding  amiably  toward  the  squire,  "  *sed  t'  be 
tol'ble  tight  on  his  folks  some  times — mons'ous  tight — 
but  he  wasafa'rman  in  de  long  run.  I  ain'  got  nothin' 
'gin  de  w'ite  folk.  Nothin'  'gin  you,  boss,  nudder." 

To  stand  meekly  by  and  hear  himself  indorsed  by  one 
of  his  own  freed-men,  to  hear  his  own  shortcomings  of 
other  days  generously  condoned  by  a  man  whose  normal 
condition,  from  the  squire's  standpoint,  was  abject  sub- 
serviency to  himself,  was  more  than  human  flesh  could 
stand,  at  least  more  than  Squire  Thorn's  flesh  could 
stand.  Manton  felt  the  quiver  of  indignation  that  shook 
the  old  man  from  head  to  foot.  The  cane  that  he  held 
in  his  right  hand  was  grasped  in  his  hard,  bony  hand, 
and  raised  aloft  with  fell  intent.  With  all  the  strength 
left  him  by  age  and  lent  him  by  wrath  he  brought  it 
down,  and  dealt  the  successful  candidate  a  blow  which 
sent  him  reeling  against  the  box  that  incased  a  young 
shade  tree.  This  impediment  completed  Sam's  down- 
fall, and  he  lay  groveling  in  the  dust  at  his  old  master's 
feet. 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  269 

"  That's  what  you  may  all  expect  if  this  insult  to 
your  color  goes  unavenged,"  a  low  voice  whispered  into 
one  ear  in  that  multitude  of  ears. 

The  pebble  had  been  thrown.  The  waters  were 
troubled.  The  circles  spread  and  widened  until  they 
reached  the  outside  limit  of  that  vast  concourse.  A 
hundred  voices  roared  in  unison  as  their  owners  tram- 
pled about  the  prostrate  form  : 

"  He's  killed  Sam.  Faythliss  is  a  dead  man.  That's 
the  way  they'll  do  us  all.  Down  with  Sam's  mur- 
derer!  " 

Twice  a  hundred  black  and  inflamed  faces  pressed 
close  to  the  spot  where  Manton  had  pushed  his  com- 
panion against  the  court-house  doors,  which  he  found 
locked  from  within,  and  stationed  himself  in  front  of 
him.  Muscular  arms  were  waved  aloft  with  revengeful 
cries,  knives  gleamed,  sticks  and  stones  were  hurled. 
The  excitement  grew  more  intense  every  second. 
The  two  men  were  hemmed  in  beyond  the  hope  of 
escape. 

"  Kill  him  !  kill  him  !  He  was  always  a  hard  un," 
were  the  only  articulate  sounds. 

Pallid  but  undaunted,  Manton  Craycraft  reared  his 
handsome  head  above  the  surging,  wavering  mass. 
With  uplifted  hand  and  voice  he  essayed  to  assuage 
their  unreasoning  wrath.  He  implored  them  at  least  to 
listen  to  him.  In  that  supreme  moment  he  seemed  to 
soar  above  every  weakness  that  had  marred  his  past 


270  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

career,  and  proudly  vindicated  his  brotherhood  to  Stir- 
ling Denny.  He  was  godlike  in  his  austere  composure, 
dauntless  in  his  quiet  bravery,  heroic  in  his  resolve  to 
protect  the  aged  and  enfeebled  man  by  his  side  from 
the  fury. of  the  mob.  In  vain  he  assured  them  that 
Faythliss  was  only  stunned ;  in  vain  he  implored  them 
to  prove  themselves  men  by  acting  less  like  brutes ;  in 
vain  he  laid  his  hand  impressively  upon  the  bowed 
white  head  of  the  old  man,  who  stood  appalled  at  the 
mischief  he  had  wrought  ;  in  vain  he  reproached  them 
with  taking  advantage  of  two  unarmed  men.  They 
were  slow  to  arouse,  but,  once  aroused,  as  well  might 
he  have  wasted  his  eloquence  on  a  herd  of  maddened 
buffaloes.  An  appeal  to  honor  is  useless  where  honor 
itself  has  never  appealed.  Of  the  few  who  heard,  not 
one  heeded. 

"Blood!" 

The  sentiment  of  the  multitude  resolved  itself  into 
that  one  sullen  roar. 

"  If  blood  you  must  have,"  Manton  cried  once  more, 
baring  his  beautiful  head  in  a  final  appeal,  "  spare 
that  old  man's,  and  take  mine !  Spare  his  gray  hairs ! 
Kill  me,  if  nothing  less  will  quench  your  blood-thirst, 
and  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  your  wretched 
souls !  " 

"Blood!" 

That  one  word  was  all  that  sounded  clearly  above 
the  uproar  of  yells,  groans,  execrations  !  The  demon 


ELECTION  DA  Y.  271 

of  hatred  was  let  loose.  A  pretext  was  all  that  was 
wanted.  It  had  been  given  in  the  blow  struck  the 
sacred  person  of  their  candidate.  He  had  been  borne 
out  of  sight,  senseless  and  bleeding.  Blood  for  his 
blood  ! 

"  Blood  ! " 

A  thousand  voices  repeated  the  devilish  command. 
A  thousand  upraised  arms  struggled  in  frenzied  effort 
to  reach  the  rash  offender.  One  rash,  brutal,  remorse- 
less thrust  appeased  the  demand  of  the  multitude — and 
Manton  Craycraft  fell  at  the  squire's  feet,  with  the  rich 
blood  of  his  strong  young  life  spouting  in  a  crimson 
tide  from  his  heart. 

"  Spare  the  old  man's  life  ! "  he  gasped,  and  fell. 

"  Spare  the  old  man's  life !  "  Rufus  Upps  repeated 
the  words  commandingly,  and  vanished. 

The  author  of  all  this  woe  dropped  in  an  agony  of 
useless  remorse  on  his  knees  by  the  dying  man. 

"  Tell  Agnes  good-by  for  me,"  he  said,  in  a  clear, 
strong  voice,  then  closed  his  bright  eyes  forever  upon 
the  world  that  he  had  used  and  misused  according  to 
his  own  wayward  fancy,  but  from  which  he  made  his 
exit  in  grandly  heroic  style. 

As  the  mountain  stream,  suddenly  swelled  by  storms, 
runs  its  course  madly  and  quickly,  so  the  wild,  unrea- 
soning rage  of  the  creatures  who  had  done  this  cruel 
thing  swiftly  ran  its  course,  and  left  them  palsied  at 
what  they  had  done. 


272  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

By  one  consent  the  wrathful  crowd  melted  away 
with  the  swiftness  of  magic.  The  day  was  well-nigh 
spent.  The  sun  had  reached  the  western  horizon,  and, 
lifting  the  curtain  of  gray  clouds  that  had  hung  before 
his  face  all  the  short,  sad  day,  cast  one  lurid  glance 
upon  the  earth  before  consigning  it  to  the  black  gloom 
of  the  coming  night.  That  lurid  beam  fell  upon  the 
still,  white  face  of  Manton  Craycraft  where  he  lay 
stretched  upon  the  green  grass  of  the  court-yard, 
awaiting  the  mockery  of  a  coroner's  inquest,  and  upon 
a  solemn  group  of  sad  men,  chief  among  whom  was 
Stirling  Denny,  who,  with  folded  arms,  and  face  almost 
as  white  and  still  as  the  face  he  gazed  down  upon,  said, 
in  a  voice  that  thrilled  with  the  agony  of  a  brother's 
grief : 

"  Father,  forgive  them  ;  they  knew  not  what  they 
did." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LOTTIE,   THE   VOUDOO   QUEEN. 

r"P  HAT  same  lurid  gleam  of  fading  sunlight  shot 
J[  athwart  the  lake  from  under  its  leaden  canopy 
of  clouds,  and  touched  the  leafless  branches  of  the 
trees  in  the  yard  at  Thorndale  with  a  pallid,  transient 
glory,  gilding  the  small-paned  windows  that  looked  out 
upon  the  western  side  of  the  house,  where  Mrs.  Thorn 
sat  alone,  as  usual,  awaiting  her  husband's  return  with 
a  feeling  akin  to  interest. 

The  dull,  dead  monotony  of  her  days  rendered  any 
thing  out  of  the  regular  routine  interesting.  This  local 
election  had  stirred  the  pulses  of  the  entire  neighbor- 
hood, irrespective  of  age  or  color  or  sex.  She  was 
naturally  anxious  to  know  how  it  had  gone. 

Since  that  strange  but  evident  avoidance  of  her  in 
church  that  June  Sunday,  Mrs.  Thorn  had  made  no 
effort  to  sustain  friendly  or  even  social  relations  with 
the  few  planters'  families  within  her  reach.  With  a 
woman's  keen  perceptive  powers  in  such  matters,  she 
had  attributed  the  coolness  she  could  not  help  notic- 
ing to  malicious  gossip  concerning  herself,  and  shrank 
from  offering  herself  again  as  a  target.  In  view  of  the 


274  THE  NE W  MA N  AT  ROSSMERE. 

hopelessness  of  putting  herself  right  before  a  lot  of 
people  who  had  shown  themselves  cruelly  prompt  to 
jump  to  damaging  conclusions,  she  simply  ignored  the 
gossip  and  the  gossipers,  and  aimed  at  making  herself 
entirely  independent  of  the  outside  world.  A  dreary 
undertaking,  in  which  she  achieved  a  dreary  success. 

So  it  had  come  to  pass  finally  that  Squire  Thorn 
never  found  occasion  to  complain  of  his  wife's  propen- 
sity to  "gad,"  but  found  her  developing  a  degree  of 
domesticity  that  filled  his  bucolic  soul  with  delight. 

But  the  night  had  come,  and  work,  that  greatest  of 
all  panaceas  for  a  sick  and  wearied  heart,  was  no  longer 
possible  even  as  a  refuge.  Agnes  folded  the  cup- 
towel  she  was  hemming,  and  looked  up  at  the  clock. 
It  was  half-past  seven,  and  she  felt  surprised.  Punc- 
tuality was  a  prime  virtue  with  Squire  Thorn,  and  he 
had  told  her  that  he  would  be  back  by  six,  enjoining 
her  to  have  something  extra  for  his  supper.  She 
walked  to  the  dining-room  and  gave  a  glance  over 
the  tea-table  to  see  if  it  was  all  right,  stepped  to  the 
back  door,  and  calling  across  the  dark  yard  toward 
the  fire-lighted  kitchen,  warned  Lucy  against  letting 
things  get  cold,  then  walked  out  to  the  front  steps  to 
listen.  Jim  had  taken  the  squire  to  the  village  that 
morning  in  the  skiff.  Old  Whitey  had  enjoyed  a  free 
day,  and  she  could  see  him  moving  like  a  clumsy  ghost 
out  among  the  yard  trees,  grazing  on  the  short  grass 
still  to  be  found  in  the  sheltered  fence  corners.  She 


LOTTIE,    THE   VOUDOO  QUEEN.  275 

knew  Jim's  long,  rhythmic  oar-stroke  well.  She  had 
often  kept  time  to  it  with  a  wordless  melody  when  he 
had  been  rowing  her  on  the  lake.  It  was  slow,  delib- 
erate, reliable — as  Jim  himself  was.  But  on  this  night 
she  made  more  than  one  restless  pilgrimage  from  her 
room  to  the  sitting-room  where  the  clock  was  slowly 
pointing  off  the  unexplained  moments  of  the  squire's 
delay,  back  to  the  front  door  again,  before  she  heard 
it.  It  came  at  last !  Slowly,  deliberately,  rhythmi- 
cally, the  sound  of  oars  dipping  into  the  water,  then 
feathering  its  surface  with  a  softly  musical  ripple  that 
came  distinctly  to  her  in  the  stillness  of  the  night. 
There  was  no  mistaking  that  steady  stroke.  It  was 
Jim.  She  heard  the  boat  grate  upon  the  sandy  bank 
presently,  and  the  oars  drop  with  noisy  clatter  upon 
the  bottom  of  the  skiff. 

That  was  not  at  all  like  Jim.  It  was  his  methodical 
habit  to  shoulder  the  oars  on  landing,  bring  them  to 
the  house,  and  deposit  them  always  in  the  same  spot 
under  the  front  steps.  She  had  placed  a  lighted  lamp 
on  the  hall  table,  and  the  front  walk  was  illuminated 
by  it  nearly  to  the  gate.  Up  this  lighted  pathway  she 
presently  saw  Jim  advancing  toward  her — alone!  A 
nameless  anxiety  seized  upon  her  at  the  sight. 

"  Is  that  you,  Jim  ?  "  she  asked,  by  way  of  precipita- 
ting any  information  he  had  to  give. 

"  Ya-a-sm  !  hit's  me,  Miss  Aggy." 

"  Where   is    Mr,  Thorn  ?  "  she   asked,  as   he   stood 


276  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

before  her,  hat  in  hand,  evidently  laboring  under  great 
and  hardly  suppressed  excitement. 

"  He — he's  all  right,  Miss  Aggy,  but — but  he  won' 
be  home  t'night,  mos'  like.  He's  all  right,  doa'  !  "• 

"  Not  coming  home  to-night !  What  does  that 
mean?  "  she  asked,  sharply. 

"  Well,  well,  he's  all  right,  Miss  Aggy.  But— but, 
Missy,  did  you  keer  much  fur — much  for  t'other  one? 
Wuz  he  yo'  ve'y  'tickler  frien'?  You  know  old  boss 
sot  a  heapin'  store  by  him — Mr.  Craycraf — he  did." 

A  sharp  pain  seized  upon  Agnes  Thorn's  heart.  A 
film  seemed  to  gather  over  her  eyes,  but  her  voice  was 
as  clear  as  a  bell  as  she  asked  : 

"What  do  you  mean,  Jim?  If  you  have  any  bad 
news  to  tell  me,  tell  it  straight  out  and  be  done  with 
it." 

"  Missy,  dar's  trubble  over  yonder."  He  nodded 
toward  the  village.  "  Mr.  Manton,  he's  a-lyin'  on  de 
grass  in  de  co't  yard,  col'  en  white  en  stiff.  No  mo' 
trubble  fur  him.  Old  Marsa  wuz  a-kneelin*  by  his  side 
a-moanin'  en  a-axin'  him  t'come  back.  Dar's  trubble 
in  his  heart.  Sam  Faythliss  is  de  shurff  uv  de  county, 
but  his  'lection  has  cos'  blood  a'ready.  Dar's  misery  in 
his  buzz'm.  En  de  worst  uv  de  trouble  ain'  over  wid 
yit.  Missy,  dar's  mischief  in  de  a'r.  I  wants  to  see 
you  safe  out'n  harm's  way,  Missy,  'fore  I  goes  back  up 
yonder.  Dar's  a  big  sight  o'  trubble  brewin'  over  dar 
dis  night." 


LOTTIE,    THE   VOUDOO  QUEEN.  277 

From  these  many  words  Agnes  seemed  to  have 
grasped  but  one  idea.  She  had  walked  slowly  back- 
ward into  the  hall,  and  now  stood  with  the  lamplight 
falling  full  upon  her  blanched  face. 

"  Is  Mr.  Manton  Craycraft  dead,  Jim?"  she  asked. 

"  Dead,  Miss  Agnes,  en  may  God  A'mighty  have 
mussy  on  de  souls  uv  dem  which  is  his  slayers." 

He  raised  his  hand  impressively  toward  heaven,  and 
stood  before  the  stricken  woman  with  reverently  bared 
head. 

"Dead!  My  love!  my  dear!"  Nature  would  not 
be  denied  in  that  supreme  moment  of  her  agony. 

"  En  he  died  to  save  the  old  man,"  Jim  said,  softly. 

Agnes  folded  her  hands  with  pathetic  patience  and 
stood  with  her  large,  tearless  eyes  bent  upon  his  agi- 
tated face. 

"  Tell  me  all,  Jim.  It  was  good  of  you  to  think  of 
me  so  promptly.  I  had  rather  you  had  the  telling  of 
it  than  anyone  else.  Tell  me  all." 

And  he  told  her  all. 

But  when  the  dismal  story  had  been  told,  with  all  its 
harrowing  details,  she  stood  before  him  with  her  hands 
still  folded  in  pathetic  patience,  and  her  large,  tearless 
.  eyes  still  bent  hungrily  upon  him. 

"She  did  keer,"  Jim  said  pityingly  to  himself,  then 
to  her,  "  Miss  Aggy,  please  m'am,  cry.  Don'  stan'  thar 
starin'  so  col'  en  still  lak.  Cry,  please,  my  sweet  mis- 
sus, or  you'll  break  po'  ole  Jim's  heart." 


278  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Instead  of  tears,  a  wintry  smile  lighted  up  the  sad 
eyes  of  his  mistress.  Even  then  she  could  accept  this 
humble  devotion  gratefully. 

A  wild,  victorious,  prolonged,  swelling  yell,  as  of 
many  voices  in  unison,  smote  upon  the  stillness  of  the 
outer  darkness,  and  echoed  through  the  quiet  house. 
Again  and  again  that  yell,  and  the  quick  trampling  of 
many  hoofs.  It  startled  the  squire's  wife  from  her 
stony  composure. 

"  What  is  that  ?  " 

But  Jim  made  no  answer.  Casting  one  hurried  glance 
about,  he  seized  a  large  traveling  shawl  that  lay  on  the 
lounge  in  the  hall,  and,  wrapping  it  about  Agnes  until 
she  was  completely  enveloped  in  it,  he  seized  her  in  his 
arms  with  a  hurried  explanation,  given  in  a  pleading 
voice : 

"Trus'  yo'  nigger  Jim,  Miss  Aggy — he's  gwinet'  put 
you  in  safety." 

She  felt  the  cold  night  air  strike  through  the  shawl 
as  Jim  strode  across  the  rough  ground  of  the 
yard,  carrying  her  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been  a 
baby. 

She  heard  him,  after  a  hurried  tramp  of  five  minutes 
probably,  give  a  vigorous  kick  against  an  unbolted 
door  and  the  next  moment  she  was  placed  upon  her 
feet  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  of  a  cabin,  which, 
although  it  was  on  her  husband's  place,  she  knew  of 
only  by  hearsay.  It  belonged  to  old  Lottie,  the 


LOTTIE,   THE  VOUDOO  QUEEN.  279 

conjurer  or  Voudoo  queen,  as  she  was  called  by  her 
own  color. 

Jim  approached  the  fireplace  where  Lottie  was  seated 
on  a  low  stool,  stewing  something  in  an  iron  skillet  set 
upon  the  glowing  coals.  His  tempestuous  entrance 
had  not  attracted  her  attention  as  she  sat  with  her  back 
to  the  door.  She  was  very  deaf. 

"  Mammy!  "  he  called,  then  put  his  mouth  close  to 
her  ear  to  repeat,  "  Mammy  ! " 

She  turned  upward  a  face  mild  and  benevolent 
enough  in  expression  to  give  immediate  contradiction  to 
the  charge  of  witchcraft  or  any  thing  uncanny  about 
her  to  any  one  less  benighted  than  a  negro. 

"  Well,  chile,  w'at  you  want,  Jim  ?  1'se  mos'  gone, 
Jim.  I'se  jus'  bilin'  me  a  little  fennel,  son,  dey  do  say 
some  is  ben  he'p'd  by  it."  She  wheezed  like  a  con- 
firmed asthmatic,  and  shook  the  skillet  that  contained 
her  decoction. 

"  Mammy,"  said  Jim,  turning  her  forcibly  around  to 
face  Agnes,  "  I've  brought  de  boss's  wife  here  for  you 
to  take  keer  of  until  I  fotch  ole  marster  home  hisseff. 
Our  folks  is  done  turn  fool,  mammy,  en  der's  lots  uv 
trubble  a-brewin'  up  yonder.  Miss  Aggy's  safe  wid 
you,  mammy." 

Lottie  got  up  from  her  low  stool  with  the  courtesy 
of  a  lady,  and  placed  her  best  hide-bottomed  chair  close 
by  the  yawning  chimney-place,  saying,  as  she  turned 
her  mild  eyes  on  the  master's  wife : 


280  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  You's  mo'n  welcome,  mistus.  Sit  you  down,  deary. 
I'se  ben  wantin'  to  see  you  dis  long  time,  but  I'se  pas' 
gittin'  up  t'  big  house."  Then  to  Jim,  as  if  taking  up 
his  thought :  "  I  knows  it,  chile.  I  ben  feelin'  it  in  my 
bones  dis  long  time.  Dar's  blood  on  de  moon,  Jim  !  " 

Agnes  shivered  and  recoiled.  Heavens!  was  this 
the  only  refuge  she  could  find  ?  These  two  her  only 
friends  ? 

Jim  caught  the  action,  and  hastened  to  reassure 
her. 

"Miss  Aggy,  please,  m'am,  don't  be  afeard.  Ef  wil' 
dogs  were  arter  a  nigger,  en  dis  room  were  his  only 
show  fur  'scapin'  dem,  he'd  tek  his  chances  wid  de  dogs 
fus'.  Mammy's  a  good  ole  ooman.  She  wouldn't  let  a 
ha'r  uv  yo'  head  be  hurt,  nor  nobody  else's,  but  'kase 
she's  ole,  en  sorter  rickity  en  tizicky,  en  b'iles  pipes  en 
dog-fennel  en  udder  truck  fur  de  mis'ry  in  her  lungs, 
dese  fools  uv  niggers  'lows  dat  she  has  dealin's  wid  Ole 
Nick,  en  dey's  worse  feared  uv  her  den  dey  is  uv  de  ole 
debbil  hisseff.  You  is  safe  here,  Miss  Aggy.  Mammy'll 
take  de  best  sort  uv  keer  uv  yer,  en  Jim  wouldn't  'ceive 
you  fur  all  de  Ian'  in  de  bed  uv  dis  lake." 

"  Thank  you,  Jim.  I  know  you  wouldn't."  But  she 
shivered  once  more  as  the  distant  yell  of  the  excited 
and  inflamed  negroes,  galloping  wildly  in  every  direc- 
tion on  their  mules,  floated  to  her  ears. 

"Ole  Lottie  ain'  so  ole  nur  good-fur-nuthin'  but  w'at 
she  can  tek  keer  uv  you  to-night,  purty  chile.  Jim, 


LOTTIE,   THE   VOUDOO  QUEEN.  281 

spread  yo'  missus'  shawl  over  de  back  er  dat  cha'r  en 
put  dat  strip  er  carpetin'  down  fur  her  foots." 

Jim  obeyed  both  orders,  spreading  the  shawl  so  as  to 
exclude  the  draughts  from  the  many  chinks  in  the 
cabin  wall.  Agnes  dropped  wearily  on  the  chair. 

"  Now  den,  git  you  gone,"  said  old  Lottie  peremp- 
torily, to  her  stalwart  son,  "  en  don'  you   come  back 
widout  de  squar." 
•  Jim  came  back  from  the  door  to  ask  anxiously: 

"  You  ain'  skeered  or  nothin',  is  you,  Miss  Aggy  ?  " 

She  turned  her  tearless  eyes  up  to  him  and  said, 
slowly  :  "  No,  Jim,  not  afraid — not  afraid  of  any  thing. 
You  can  go." 

"  You's  mighty  right,  chile,"  says  old  Lottie,  com- 
fortably settling  down  once  more  on  her  low  stool; 
"dar  ain'  nuthin'  to  be  skeert  uv  now.  Ole  Lottie's  all 
right,  you's  all  right,  ole  Mars'  's  all  right,  en  my  Jim's 
all  right ;  but  dar's  blood  on  de  moon  all  de  same,  my 
chile." 

Jim  was  gone,  and  Agnes  was  alone  with  old  Lottie, 
the  Voudoo  queen,  who  was  a  terror  to  her  own  color 
and  a  jest  to  the  white  people  who  knew  her  or  of  her. 

She  had  been  born  as  a  slave  on  the  squire's  place. 
She  had  the  height  and  muscular  development  of  a  large 
man,  and,  despite  the  fact  that  she  had  been  a  useless 
invalid  for  many  years,  she  retained  enough  flesh  on  her 
large  frame  to  preserve  her  from  gauntness.  Of  a  light 
griff  complexion,  her  features  were  unusually  intelligent 


282  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

and  pleasing  in  expression.  It  was  from  her  that  Jim 
had  inherited  his  gentle  and  affectionate  nature.  Lot- 
tie's days  "  since  freedom  "  had  been  devoted  almost 
exclusively  to  experiments  with  every  procurable  herb, 
in  a  vain  effort  to  find  some  palliative  for  her  terrible 
complaint.  Her  cabin  shelves  were  loaded  down  with 
unlabeled  bottles,  that  Lottie  nosed  at  when  deciding 
their  individual  excellences.  It  was  this  pursuit  and 
its  evil-smelling  results  that  had  gained  for  her  the 
reputation  of  being  a  "cunger"  woman. 

"  You  ain'  col',  honey,  is  you  ?  "  she  asked,  as  Agnes 
drew  her  chair  closer  to  the  log  fire  and  spread  her  white 
hands  out  over  the  skillet.  They  were  trembling  and 
so  was  she. 

"No,"  she  said,  absently,  "  I'm  not  cold,  Aunt  Lot- 
tie." 

"Nor  skeert?" 

"  No,  nor  scared." 

"  Den  you's  sleepy,  honey.  Dat's  w'at's  de  matter." 
And  Lottie  looked  deprecatingly  toward  the  humble 
bed  which  she  knew  the  mistress  could  not  lie  upon. 
"It's  a  shame  you's  ben  pestered  so  to-night.  I'll  fix 
dem  niggers  !  "  She  chuckled  audibly.  It  was  evident 
Lottie  enjoyed  her  reputation  as  a  sorceress  and  made 
capital  of  it. 

"You  were  singing  when  I  came  in,  Lottie.  I  think 
if  you'll  just  not  mind  me,  but  go  on  as  if  I  were  not 
here,  I  should  like  it  better,"  Agnes  said,  very  gently. 


LOTTIE,    THE   VOUDOO  QUEEN.  283 

And  Lottie  complied,  with  true  courtesy.  Addressing 
herself  once  more  to  the  contents  of  her  skillet,  she 
picked  up  the  weird  ditty  she  had  dropped  when  Jim 
aroused  her,  and  crooned  it  softly  while  she  stirred  the 
mixture  of  dog-fennel  and  red-oak  bark.  The  wild 
melody  of  it  wove  itself  in  and  about  the  somber  woof 
of  the  melancholy  reverie  that  engaged  such  powers  of 
reflection  as  were  left  to  Agnes.  The  light  from  the 
burning  ash  logs  in  the  sunken  hearth  was  the  only 
light  in  the  cabin.  The  flames  danced  upon  the  rude 
floor,  playing  fantastic  tricks  with  the  shadows  of  the 
two  women  who  sat  before  it  in  such  strange  and  un- 
equal companionship. 

Agnes  was  stunned  beyond  the  possibility  of  con- 
nected or  intelligent  thought.  She  bore  with  her 
through  all  her  after  life  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  con- 
fused medley  that  passed  for  thought  with  her  on  that 
fateful  night  as  she  sat  by  the  dancing  flame-light  in  old 
Lottie's  cabin. 

Manton  Craycraft  was  dead !  Distinct  and  horrible 
that  one  fact  stood  out.  He  had  been  brutally  mur- 
dered. Why,  she  had  not  yet  come  to  understand. 
What  a  statuesque  object  Lottie  was,  with  her  strong 
profile  outlined  by  the  blazing  logs,  and  her  white- 
turbaned  head  set  so  firmly  on  her  massive  shoulders. 
Poor  Manton  !  She  had  been  hard  with  him  in  that 
last  decisive  interview.  He  would  never  anger  her 
again.  If  her  husband  was  all  right,  as  Jim  insisted, 


284  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

why  did  he  not  come  to  protect  her  from  the  nameless 
horrors  of  that  night  ?  How  sickening  the  smell  from 
that  skillet.  Dog-fennel  was  that  woolly,  flannely- 
leaved  thing  that  grew  so  thick  in  the  fence  corners. 
She  wondered  if  it  really  was  good  for  asthma.  What 
was  the  trouble  that  was  brewing?  Were  the  rest 
of  the  white  women  being  cared  for  as  she  was  ? 
Why  had  they  killed  Manton  ?  What  had  they 
against  him?  He  had  always  been  so  merry  and 
friendly  with  the  blacks.  Did  no  one  but  Jim 
care  to  protect  her  from  danger?  If  Lottie  would 
only  fall  asleep.  If  day  would  only  break.  Was 
Stirling  Denny  caring  for  Ursula  Ralston  this  frightful 
night  ?  Some  of  these  days  she  expected  to  hear  of 
their  being  married.  If  Lottie's  mixture  tasted  as 
badly  as  it  smelted,  she  would  rather  have  asthma  than 
swallow  it.  But  through  it  all  ran  the  wail — Dead ! 
Dead!  Beyond  hope  of  recall !  Beyond  power  to  anger! 
Why  had  she  not  been  as  safe  in  her  own  house  as  in 
this  lonely  cabin  ?  What  mattered  it  whether  she  were 
safe  anywhere  or  not  ?  Life  had  proved  such  a  dreary 
failure.  She  had  meant  always  to  do  her  duty,  in  what- 
ever station  in  life  it  had  pleased  God  to  place  her. 
Why  did  Providence  make  the  path  of  duty  so  thorny? 
What  manner  of  man  could  her  husband  be,  to  have 
her  endure  all  this  alone  ?  Poor  Manton !  so  young  and 
so  strong,  a  sacrifice  to — what? 

Her  eyes  never  left  the  flickering  flames  of  the  ash 


LOTTIE,    THE  VOUDOO  QUEEN.  285 

logs.  Her  hands  twined  themselves  restlessly  about 
the  long  ends  of  the  black  ribbons  that  fell  in  a  cas- 
cade from  the  front  of  her  overskirt.  She  absorbed 
old  Lottie's  crooning  so  that  the  melody  of  it  dwelt  in 
her  memory  for  all  time  to  come.  The  ashen  logs 
burned  low.  The  decoction  was  set  aside  softly  by  old 
Lottie  as  if  fearful  of  frightening  slumber  from  the 
wide,  dry  eyes  of  the  master's  wife.  The  old  woman's 
hands  were  folded  in  her  ample  lap ;  her  mild,  dark 
eyes  closed ;  the  white-turbaned  head  fell  forward  on 
her  breast ;  the  weird  melody  was  hushed.  A  rooster 
crowed  in  the  far  distance,  heralding  a  morrow  to  that 
tragic  yesterday.  A  cold,  gray  beam  of  pallid  light 
found  its  way  slowly  through  the  open  logs  of  the 
cabin  wall.  The  horrors  of  the  night  melted  into  the 
suspense  of  another  day.  The  logs  fell  apart,  and  the 
ashes  grew  cold.  With  clasped  hands  and  white  lids 
closed,  Agnes  too  slept  and  forgot — for  a  little  while. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A     WORD     IN     SEASON. 

WHEN  Manton  Craycraft  came  to  his  tragic  and 
most  causeless  death,  Jim  had  been  at  a  remote 
shanty  in  the  end  of  the  village  furthest  from  the  court- 
house, refreshing  the  inner-man  on  a  cold  sweet-potato 
pie,  washed  down  with  generous  libations  of  butter- 
milk, delicacies  in  which  a  lady  of  saffron  hue  and 
ample  proportions  drove  a  flourishing  business  during 
court  term,  or  whenever  any  abnormal  condition  of 
affairs  swelled  the  population  of  the  village  from  its 
permanent  tens  to  transient  hundreds. 

He  never  ceased  to  reproach  himself  for  his  absence 
from  the  squire's  side  at  the  moment  when  the  old  man 
so  insanely  precipitated  the  catastrophe. 

"  I  mout  er  pacified  de  ole  man,  an'  'a'  saved  de 
young  'un,"  Jim  was  wont  to  say  for  a  long  time  after. 
"  'Twarn't  no  use  foolin'  wid  a  passel  er  half-drunk, 
half-crazy  niggers,  nohow  ;  "  and  he  heaped  upon  him- 
self useless  and  unmerited  reproaches  for  not  being  on 
hand  as  a  pacificator. 

The  news  had  flown  to  him  with  the  proverbial 
swiftness  and  sureness  of  ill-tidings,  and  by  the  time 


A    WORD  IN  SEASON.  287 

he  reached  the  court-house  the  crowd  had  swelled  into 
a  densely  packed  mass  of  men  and  women,  dark-hued, 
sullen-browed,  restless,  and  vindictive,  uttering  wild  and 
senseless  threats  of  revenge  for  fancied  insults  from 
imaginary  foes  in  an  ignorant  aimless  fashion.  One 
desire  in  common  possessed  the  mob.  That  was  for 
"one  good  look"  at  the  cold  still  form,  which,  laid 
upon  a  stretcher  and  the  stretcher  raised  upon  trestles, 
made  a  mournfully  conspicuous  nucleus  for  the  crowd. 
It  was  by  Stirling  Denny's  orders  that  the  body  had 
thus  been  disposed  of.  He  desired  it  should  not  be 
removed  indoors.  Major  Denny's  simplest  desire  car- 
ried with  it  the  weight  of  a  command  to  the  ignorant 
blacks,  who,  regarding  him  as  the  visible  exponent  of 
those  principles  that  had  rescued  them  from  bondage, 
worshiped  him  accordingly. 

When  the  horrible  story  of  his  brother's  assassination 
had  reached  the  office  where  Stirling  Denny  sat  dis- 
cussing the  probable  moral  effect  of  Faythliss's  elec- 
tion, he  had  listened  to  it  in  a  sort  of  stunned  surprise. 
He  had  pictured  to  himself  a  variety  of  catastrophes 
that  might  accrue  from  any  imprudence  on  the  part  of 
the  hot-headed  old  man  who  had  involved  them  all  in 
this  trouble  ;  but  that  Manton,  his  rollicking,  reckless, 
laughing  brother,  should  have  been  the  victim  selected 
to  appease  the  insensate  wrath  of  a  brutalized  mob 
seemed  so  illogical  a  conclusion  that  at  first  he  could 
not  embrace  the  horrible  reality. 


288  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  Tell  it  all  over  again  slowly," 
he  had  demanded  of  the  bearer  of  the  evil  tidings. 
"  You  are  excited.  Speak  slowly.  We  want  to  know 
exactly  all  that  you  can  tell  us."  His  own  voice  was 
low,  calm  and  stern. 

The  bearer  repeated  his  story,  not  slowly  nor  calmly. 
He  was  a  white  man,  a  father  and  a  husband,  who  was 
in  mad  haste  to  urge  the  foam-flecked  horse  he  bestrode 
over  six  miles  of  rough  country  roads  to  take  him 
where  he  could  protect  his  family  from  whatsoever  was 
yet  to  come.  Stunned  silence  succeeded  his  second 
telling. 

"  Assassinated.  Poor  Manton  !  Is  this  the  finale  ? 
Is  it  so  you  cease  from  troubling?  " 

Stirling  had  stood  for  a  second  after  uttering  these 
words  aloud  with  folded  arms  and  his  head  dropped 
upon  his  breast.  In  that  short  period  of  physical  inac- 
tion his  mind  had  swept  with  swift  retrospection  over 
the  career  of  the  brother  who,  in  some  shape  or  another, 
had  been  a  source  of  anxiety  to  all  connected  with  him 
from  his  earliest  boyhood. 

"  But  his  death  was  grand  !  It  was  an  expiation  !  " 
he  said,  with  a  ring  of  triumph  in  his  voice,  as  he  raised 
his  head  and  looked  into  the  troubled  faces  of  the  men 
grouped  about  him  in  silent  sympathy  for  his  one  out- 
burst of  sorrow.  "  Such  a  death  covereth  a  multitude 
of  sins."  He  was  unconsciously  defending  his  dead, 
whom  no  man  accused. 


A    WORD  IN  SEASON.  289 

"  You  knew  him  well?  He  was  an  old  friend,  was  he 
not?"  some  one  asked. 

Then  Stirling  bethought  himself  of  the  uselessness 
of  now  making  known  the  deception  that  Manton  had 
considered  necessary  in  life.  If  need  be,  he  would  let 
them  all  know  how  near  this  blow  had  struck  himself, 
but  not  causelessly. 

"  Yes,  I  knew  him  well.  I  have  known  him  always. " 
Then  he  turned,  and,  taking  his  hat  from  the  rack, 
stared  into  the  crown  of  it  mechanically  for  a  full 
second,  put  it  on,  and  started  slowly  in  the  direction 
of  the  gate. 

Mr.  Southmead  followed  him,  and  laid  a  detaining 
hand  on  his  arm  as  he  asked  : 

"Where  are  you  going,  Denny?" 

"  Up  yonder.  I  think  perhaps  I  shall  be  needed.  I 
must  look  after—  it!"  He  shuddered.  Poor  Manton! 
All  that  physical  exuberance,  that  mental  brightness, 
that  redundancy  of  life,  resolved  into  a  ghastly  It ! 

Mr.  Southmead  noted  the  blazing  eyes  and  the 
scarcely  suppressed  excitement  of  the  young  man  with 
grave  uneasiness. 

"  Surely  Thorn  will  have  the  decency — " 

But  the  major  interrupted  him  sharply : 

"  It  is  my  sole  charge.  He  was — my  guest.  I  must 
see  that  his  assassin  is  arrested,  if  he  has  not  already 
escaped.  You,"  he  added,  embracing  the  entire  group 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "  had  best  hasten  to  your 


zpo  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

homes.  There  are  lonely  and  anxious  women  in  every 
one  of  them,  except  in  mine.  I  am  in  no  danger,"  he 
said,  letting  his  eyes  rest  for  a  moment  on  the  man  who 
had  taunted  him  some  little  while  back. 

"  Denny!"  Mr.  Southmead  tightened  his  hold  upon 
the  arm  of  his  friend,  "  take  my  advice  for  once.  I 
know  it's  not  worth  much  to  you  from  a  practical  point 
of  view,  but  I  am  better  acquainted  with  these  people 
than  you  possibly  can  be.  Any  attempt  to  bring  the 
murderer  of  your  friend  to  justice  by  arresting  him 
to-night  will  be  to  jeopardize  the  life  of  every  man  in 
this  community.  These  creatures  are  not  vindictive. 
They  do  not  bear  malice.  They  have  been  incited  to 
this  hellish  deed  by  those  who  have  used  them  as  tools 
for  their  own  revengeful  ends.  But,  once  aroused, 
these  people  are  as  devoid  of  reason  as  any  wild  beast 
of  the  jungle.  A  blind,  brutal  impulse  drove  that  knife 
into  Manton  Craycraft's  breast.  At  this  moment  they 
are  intoxicated  with  the  triumph  of  Sam's  election. 
Liberty  means  license  with  them.  Power  means  privi- 
lege. In  their  ignorance  they  imagine  that  in  electing 
one  of  their  own  color  to  be  sheriff  they  have  secured 
immunity  from  punishment.  To-night  is  not  the  time 
to  teach  them  differently.  Give  their  volatile  passion 
time  to  subside,  Denny.  We  could  not  spare 
you !  " 

"Thank  you,  Southmead,  for  that  last  sentence.  But 
you  mistake  my  intention  if  you  imagine  for  a  moment 


A    WORD  IN  SEASON.  291 

that  I  am  likely  to  add  fuel  to  this  fire.  You  ought  to 
know  me  better,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  of  intense  sad- 
ness, holding  his  friend's  hand  in  a  firm,  close  grasp. 
"  I  blame  myself  bitterly  foa  having  held  aloof.  We 
have  all  erred  in  leaving  these  local  matters  so  entirely 
in  the  hands  of  these  miserable  adventurers.  And 
this  is  the  result."  He  turned  from  them  and 
walked  with  quick  decision  in  the  direction  of  the 
court-house. 

"  We  can  do  no  good  by  following  him,"  Mr.  Harris 
said,  breaking  the  solemn  stillness  that  had  fallen  upon 
the  little  group.  "  His  advice  is  good.  We  are  all 
forgetting  the  women,  who  will  be  in  agonies  of  sus- 
pense if  a  rumor  of  this  thing  reaches  them  before  -we 
do.  It  is  probable  that  we  will  all  have  to  leave  the 
neighborhood." 

"  May  God  protect  our  mortal  foe !  "  said  George 
Southmead,  raising  his  hat  reverently  from  his 
head. 

And  a  solemn  "Amen  "  fell  from  every  lip. 

By  the  time  Jim  Doakes — unlettered  but  chivalric 
Jim — neared  the  village  again,  after  having  placed  his 
mistress  in  safety,  it  was  past  ten 'o'clock.  The  night 
was  one  of  extreme  darkness  and  oppressive  stillness. 
He  could  hardly  see  a  boat's  length  from  his  own  skiff 
in  any  direction,  but  he  could  hear  the  dip  of  oars  on 
every  side,  commingling  with  the  soft  splash  of  the 
single-paddled  canoe  and  the  bumping  of  the  flat-bot- 


292  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

tomed  scows.  Every  description  of  craft  that  could  be 
found  was  conveying  through  the  blackness  of  the 
night  fresh  material  to  swell  the  surging,  restless, 
tumultuous  throng  about  the  court-house.  Excited 
voices  called  across  the  dark  waters  from  boat  to  boat, 
demanding  tidings,  exchanging  prophecies,  foretelling 
woes,  singing  snatches  of  triumphant  songs,  reveling 
in  unbridled  discussion  and  a  large  sense  of  personal 
liberty. 

The  landing  reached,  Jim  moored  his  boat  to  a  stake 
among  a  multitude  of  other  craft  of  every  shape  and 
size,  and  went  with  the  crowd  to  where  a  couple  of 
brilliant  bonfires,  lighted  to  celebrate  Mr.  Faythliss's 
election,  illumined  the  court-yard.  Elbowing  his  way 
recklessly  toward  the  center,  he  soon  stood  within 
hearing  of  Stirling  Denny's  voice  as  it  rang  out  over 
the  heads  of  the  gathered  multitude. 

The  young  man  stood  upon  the  court-house  steps, 
not  a  pace  removed  from  his  sheeted  dead.  It 
was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
saw  it. 

The  blackness  of  the  heavens  was  intensified  by  the 
lurid  glare  of  the  bonfires  alight  on  both  sides  the 
walk.  The  red-brick  of  the  building,  brought  into 
bright  relief  by  the  same  fierce  light,  served  as  a  strong 
background  to  Stirling  Denny's  erect  form  and  noble 
head  as  he  stood  with  it  bared  to  the  night  air  and 
called  upon  these  men,  who  outnumbered  him  a 


A    WORD  fN  SEASON.  293 

thousand  to  one,  to  pause  and  reflect  upon  the  mon- 
strous cruelty  of  Manton  Craycraft's  taking  off. 

"  To-day,"  he  said,  in  a  clear,  strong,  fearless  voice, 
"  there  has  been  accorded  you  the  high  privilege  of 
electing  from  your  own  ranks  a  conservator  of  the 
laws.  To-day  you  have  trampled  under  foot,  in  the 
most  brutal  and  causeless  frenzy,  the  majesty  of  those 
laws.  To-day  your  hearts  have  swelled  at  the  first 
public  recognition  of  your  rights  as  citizens.  To-day 
you  have  proved  yourselves  no  more  fit  for  the  exercise 
of  those  rights  than  the  beasts  that  brought  you  here 
to  deposit  your  votes.  You  aspire  to  be  considered 
our  brothers  and  our  equals.  You  conspire  together 
to  do  a  deed  that  would  damn  a  demon,  and  consign 
him  to  the  lowest  pits  of  hell.  See  your  work.  Think 
of  it !  Ponder  upon  it  when  you  go  to  your  homes  ! 
Ponder  upon  it  when  you  lie  down  to  sleep  !  Think 
of  it  with  every  breath  you  draw !  Think  of  the  das- 
tardly blow  you  struck,  and  deprived  an  innocent  man 
of  the  life  and  strength  you  prize  so  dearly,  sending 
him  to  the  grave  in  the  flush  of  his  young  manhood ! 
What  had  he  done  to  you  ?  You,  who  call  yourselves 
men.  What  had  he  done  but  try  to  shield  a  tottering 
old  man  from  the  savage  wrath  of  a  thousand  brutes  ? 
Brutes,  I  repeat  the  word.  Yes,  I  hear  your  hisses,  I  hear 
your  groans,  I  stand  here  alone  among  you.  I  do  not 
see  but  one  white  face  in  all  this  surging  throng.  Yes — 
I  was  wrong — I  do.  Another  white  face,  a  cold  white 


294  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

face.  Stony  in  its  stillness.  It  is  the  face  of  your 
victim.  But  he  is  powerless  now  to  reproach  you,  or 
to  succor  me,  should  the  demon  within  you  demand 
more  blood.  You  have  called  me  your  friend.  You 
have  pretended  a  devotion  for  me  that  I  would  spurn 
as  I  would  a  reptile,  if  I  did  not  believe  you  would 
repent  most  bitterly  of  this  night's  work.  Do  not 
think  this  matter  ends  here.  You  have  killed  a  man 
who  never  owned  a  slave,  never  trafficked  in  human 
flesh,  never  harmed  you  nor  one  of  your  race  by  word, 
thought,  or  deed.  You  have  killed  a  man  who  offered 
his  life  for  your  liberty,  and  fought  the  war  of  the 
rebellion  out  from  end  to  end.  Slain  him  brutally, 
savagely,  senselessly !  But  the  end  is  not  yet  come. 
You  may  slay  me,  too,  for  with  every  reproach  I  hurl 
at  you  I  give  you  ten  thousand  times  more  provocation 
to  murder  me  than  he  did  in  his  whole  life.  But  the 
end  would  not  come  then.  You  may  silence  every 
voice  that  shall  be  raised  in  righteous  wrath  at  this 
day's  foul  work,  but  the  end  will  not  be  yet !  Behind 
the  offender  is  the  offense.  Behind  the  offense  is 
the  law.  Behind  the  law  are  the  men  who  have 
sworn  to  Almighty  God  to  uphold  it  in  all  its 
majesty  and  dignity.  Behind  their  oath  is  that  God 
whose  name  is  invoked  to  give  them  weight,  and  so 
surely  as  that  God  is  the  God  of  justice,  as  surely  as 
that  God  lives,  you  shall  suffer  for  this  day's  work.  I 
hear  your  groans.  They  are  wrung  from  terror,  not 


A    WORD  IN  SEASON.  295 

contrition.     I  see  you  slinking  away  into  the  darkness 
that  lies  beyond  the  fires  you  kindled  to  celebrate  your 
triumph  as  citizens.      Can  you  slink  away  from  the 
darkness  that   is   in   your  souls  this  night  ?     Can  you 
find  a  spot  in  all  this  green  earth  where  the  memory  of 
this  deed  will  not  haunt  you  ?     Only  one  of  you  did 
this  thing,   you  are  wanting  to  say  to  me.     Only  one 
hand  held  the  knife  that  spilled  the  blood  now  staining 
the  grass  under  your  feet.     But  every  man  that  joined 
in  the  mad  uproar  that  nerved  that  hand  was  as  much 
a   murderer   as    he.      Yes,    murderers.      A  thousand 
cowardly  murderers  to  silence  one  .brave  voice  pleading 
for  an  old  man's  life.     Men,  this  is  but  a  poor  begin- 
ning of  your  career  as  citizens.     You  have  forfeited  the 
title  to  be  called  men.     There  is  but  one  extenuating 
circumstance  to  the  horror  of  your  guilt — that  is,  your 
profound   ignorance.     You  have  had  evil  counselors — 
men  who  knew  better,  but  who  used  you  for  their  own 
wicked  purposes.     I  hope  they  may  be  within  sound  of 
my  words.     That  dead  man  was  my — friend.     I  cared 
for  him  in   life,  I   shall  care  for  him  in  death.     His 
slayer  shall  not  go  unpunished.     I  do  not  know  the 
name  of  the  man  who  struck  that  fatal  blow ;  I  do  not 
ask  you  to  give  it  to  me.     I  do  not  ask  you  to  give 
the  names  of  those  who  have  tried  to  make  you  see  in 
your  old    masters   enemies,  rather  than   your  friends. 
The  men  whose  lands  you  till,  whose  ready  sympathy 
you  call  for  in  the  time  of  sickness  and  trouble,  and  get. 


296  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

I  demand  of  you  the  names  of  the  evil  counselors  who 
have  tried  to  inflame  you  to  hatred  by  reminding  you 
of  the  hardships  and  injustice  that  fell  to  your  lot 
when  slaves.  The  man  you  have  killed  to-day 
was  born  where  I  was.  *He  helped  to  give  you  your 
freedom  ;  you  have  given  him — death  !  I  warn  you 
against  arraying  yourselves  as  black  men  against  white 
men.  You  have  purposely  been  misled  into  thinking 
you  can  better  your  lot  by  violent  means.  What  do 
you  propose  to  do  next?  You  have  a  sheriff  of  your 
own  color  and  selection.  Before  that  sheriff  can  offi- 
ciate, he  takes  the  most  binding  oath  to  maintain  law 
and  order.  Do  you  imagine  he  can  protect  you  in 
your  lawlessness  ?  I  pity  your  ignorance.  And  while 
I  abhor  you  for  the  deed  you  have  done,  I  pity  you 
enough  to  advise  you  as  a  friend.  Go  back  to  your 
homes — go  back  to  your  every-day  labors.  Forget  the 
bad  advice  you  have  swallowed  only  too  eagerly  ;  make 
yourselves  worthy  of  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the 
men  among  whom  you  have  lived  all  your  lives.  Their 
interests  are  your  interests.  Do  not  try  to  crowd  into 
a  day  the  work  of  years.  It  is  the  work  of  years  to 
educate  yourselves  into  fitness  for  the  positions  that 
now  make  you  ridiculous.  Sam  Faythliss,  as  an  up- 
right, capable  lessee  of  Mr.  Harris's  land,  was  an  ob- 
ject of  respect  and  liking  to  every  one,  myself  in- 
cluded ;  Sam  Faythliss,  as  a  helpless,  ignorant,  inca- 
pable sheriff  is  an  object  of  scorn  and  derision  to 


A    WORD  IN  SEASON.  297 

every  one,  myself  included.  He  will  have  to  be  helped 
in  the  routine  of  his  office,  and  he  will  have  to  go  to  a 
white  man  for  that  help — not  to  the  white  men  who 
have  been  whispering  poisonous  lies  into  your  ears  for 
months  past — 

"  Dey  done  leff  a'ready !  "  said  an  excited  voice  in 
the  crowd. 

"  Who  has  left  ?  " 

"  Boss  Upps  en  boss  Gays ! "  shouted  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Why  did  they  leave?  " 

"  Skeerd,  I  reckin." 

A  profound  silence  followed,  broken  finally  by  Stir- 
ling's concluding  words. 

"  The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth.  I  charge 
you  disperse,  and  return  to  your  homes  quietly  and 
soberly.  I  shall  not  leave  this  spot  until  you  have 
shown  whether  you  are  "sorry  for  what  you  have  done. 
If  you  remain  massed  here,  I  shall  summon  the  officers 
of  the  law  to  arrest  every  man  found  within  this  court- 
yard at  the  time  of  Manton  Craycraft's  murder."  He 
deliberately  took  out  his  watch  and  held  it  in  his 
hands.  "  Five  minutes  to  choose  between  dispersion 
or  arrest ! " 

They  did  not  doubt  for  a  moment  his  perfect  ability 
to  carry  his  threat  of  wholesale  arrest  into  execution. 
He  had  aroused  their  benumbed  consciences  to  a 
spasm  of  remorse  for  their  brutality.  Their  leaders 
and  counselors  were  already  beyond  reach  of  harm. 


298  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Conscience  did  not  lash  them  with  over-severity,  but 
the  brute  instinct  of  self-preservation  dictated  com- 
pliance and  conciliation.  A  restless  movement  agitated 
the  close-packed  mass  of  humanity.  It  increased,  and 
the  ranks  opened  on  every  side.  With  the  suddenness 
of  magic  the  crowd  stirred,  thinned,  vanished. 

Before  half  an  hour  expired,  Stirling  Denny,  the 
stricken  squire,  and  Jim  Doakes  alone  remained  by 
Manton's  bier.  Jim  and  the  major  lifted  it  and  bore  it 
into  the  office  behind  them.  The  old  man  followed 
with  a  feeble,  tottering  step.  In  vain  they  urged  upon 
him  that  he  ought  to  go  back  to  Thorndale,  back  to  his 
wife.  He  looked  at  them  stupidly,  and  said : 

"  She  don't  need  me,  she  can't  help  me.  She  warn't 
kind  to  him,"  pointing  to  the  shrouded  form.  "  I 
might  say  something  hard  to  her  if  I  saw  her  now. 
He  cared  enough  for  me  to  give  his  life  for  me.  I 
wasn't  worth  it,  but  he  done  it  all  the  same."  And  on 
his  knees  by  the  bier  he  mourned  as  David  of  old 
mourned  over  Absalom. 

"  Mr.  Major,"  said  Jim  timidly,  when  their  task  was 
done,  "  please,  sir,  I'd  like  to  shake  your  hand.  You 
saved  our  w'ite  folks  from  de  wrath  of  heaven  oncet, 
w'en  de  floods  was  a  threatenin'  uv  us,  an  you've  saved 
'em  ag'in  from  worse.  I'd  like  to  tech  yo'  hand." 
And  the  two  men  clasped  friends'  hands  across  Man- 
ton's  bier. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE.  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION. 

FOLLOWING  at  one  and  the  same  time  the  major's 
advice  and  the  desire  of  their  own  hearts,  the 
men  whom  Stirling  had  left  behind  him  promptly  took 
their  departure  by  diverging  roads  for  their  own  homes. 
A  sense  of  painful  uncertainty  filled  every  breast. 
This  matter  might  possibly  flame  into  a  riot  of  alarm- 
ing proportions,  or  it  might  end  with  that  one  victim 
to  an  outburst  of  senseless  wrath.  There  was  no  tell- 
ing. It  was  impossible  to  predicate  the  probabilities 
of  to-morrow  from  the  act  of  to-day,  where  a  people  so 
totally  devoid  of  stability  or  the  power  of  concentrated 
thought  was  concerned. 

The  white  men  were  afraid  to  trust  themselves  to 
any  sort  of  action  in  the  matter.  Their  indignation 
and  fierce  wrath  were  so  largely  in  the  ascendant,  and 
the  habit  of  unbridled  expression  still  so  strong  upon 
them, that  no  good  could  possibly  come  of  their  presence 
among  the  engaged  negroes,  and  more  harm  might 
accrue. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  by  the  time  Mr.  Southmead 
turned  the  door  handle  of  his  own  bedroom,  where  the 


300  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

lamp  was  burning  low  on  the  hearth,  where  Mrs.  South- 
mead  had  placed  it  before  going  to  bed,  having  "  freed 
her  mind  "  several  times  during  the  evening  on  the  sub- 
ject of  men  not  being  able  to  go  to  the  village  for  what 
ought  to  keep  them  an  hour,  without  making  a  day  of 
it,  and  night  too,  it  would  seem. 

The  profound  stillness  that  reigned  in  the  dimly 
lighted  room  reassured  Mr.  Southmead.  Mrs.  South- 
mead  had  evidently  heard  nothing.  If  she  had  been 
frightened,  he  argued  from  past  experience,  she  would 
have  greeted  his  appearance,  even  at  that  hour  of  the 
night,  with  meek  gratitude,  instead  of  lying  there,  with 
her  face  turned  studiously  to  the  wall,  feigning  slum- 
ber, until  he  should  be  in  a  position  to  receive  the  full 
force  of  her  batteries. 

He  instantly  resolved  to  reserve  his  ill  tidings  for 
the  morning.  They  could  be  better  borne  by  daylight. 
If  this  disturbance  among  the  freedmen  showed  any 
signs  of  increase  to-morrow,  he  should  promptly  remove 
his  family  from  the  county  ;  if  not,  if  things  should 
have  quieted  down,  his  wife  would  have  been  spared  a 
period  of  unnecessary  discomfort.  Having  thus  deter- 
mined, he  began  his  preparations  for  bed,  in  moody 
silence.  This  unusual  reticence  was  the  last  feather 
on  an  overloaded  camel.  This  was  not  the  first  time 
since  there  had  been  a  Mrs.  Southmead  that  Mr. 
Southmead  had  turned  the  door-handle  of  his  own  bed- 
room with  discreet  gentleness,  in  the  small  hours,  to 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  301 

find  a  smoky  lamp  upon  the  hearth  and  an  irate  wife 
lying  in  bed !  But  the  formula  on  like  occasions  in 
the  past  had  generally  been  a  tentative — "  Sleep, 
dearie  ?  "  asked  with  a  brave  show  of  cheerful  indiffer- 
ence to  consequences.  It  then  rested  with  Mrs.  South- 
mead  to  enter  a  wordy  protest  against  such  scandalous 
goings-on,  or  to  maintain  a  dignified  display  of  voice- 
less indignation  at  discretion. 

To-night  she  heard  her  husband  come  in  and  sniff 
the  kerosened  atmosphere  disgustedly,  then  the  lamp 
flamed  higher  and  she  could  see  his  shadow  on  the 
plastered  wall  toward  which  her  outraged  eyes  were 
turned.-  She  could  hear  him  wind  up  his  watch  and 
hang  it  in  the  perforated  paper  slipper,  with  the  blue 
ribbon  quilled  around  it,  that  she  had  made  for  his  watch 
when  Fred  was  a  boy.  She  heard  one  shoe  after  the 
other  dropped  heavily  on  the  floor.  And  not  a  word 
yet.  A  sudden  upheaval  of  the  bed-clothes,  and  Mrs. 
Southmead's  wide-open  eyes  were  where  the  back  of 
her  night-cap  had  been  a  second  before. 

"Well,  Mr.  Southmead?  " 

"  Are  you  awake,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  Am  I  awake !  Do  I  look  or  sound  as  if  I  was 
asleep  ?  " 

"Not  the  least  in  the  world.  You'd  better  try  it 
now,  though." 

This  was  not  according  to  precedent.  It  was  evi- 
dent intimidation  would  not  suit  the  requirements  of 


302  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

the  present  occasion.  Mrs.  Southmead  was  a  woman 
of  infinite  variety. 

"  Haven't  you  a  single  thing  to  tell  me,  George,  now 
that  you  have  come  home  ?  I  would  like  you  to  be  the 
one  to  stay,  and  I  the  one  to  come  home  as  dumb  as 
an  oyster,  and  see  how  you'd  like  it." 

"  I  haven't  very  much  to  tell,"  he  answered,  unre- 
sentfully,  "  and  what  little  I  have  will  keep.  I  will  sat- 
isfy you  at  the  breakfast-table.  One  telling  must  do  for 
the  family.  We've  had  a  hard  day  of  it,  and  been 
beaten." 

"  Beaten !  "  Mrs.  Southmead  sat  bolt  upright  in 
bed.  "  George,  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  Sam 
Faythliss  has  been  elected  sheriff  !  " 

"  Beyond  a  doubt." 

"  Then  it  is  all  that  Major  Denny's  doings !  "  she 
cried,  in  passionate  injustice.  "  He  is  the  only  man  in 
the  county  that  has  a  particle  of  influence  with  the 
negroes,  and  every  body  says  he  has  them  completely 
under  his  control.  If  he  is  such  a  friend  of  every 
body's  as  the  easily  gullible  ones  are  so  anxious  to 
believe — thank  goodness  I'm  not  one  of  them — why 
didn't  he  make  the  election  go  to  suit  us  ?  I  never  did 
more  than  half  believe  in  him,  and  now  I  don't  believe 
in  him  at  all.  George,  you  are  nursing  a  viper  in  your 
bosom  !  "  After  which  tragic  peroration  Mrs.  South- 
mead  threw  herself  back  upon  her  pillow  in  unrecon- 
structed wrath, 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  303 

"  Denny  has  made  the  mistake  we  all  made — failed 
to  manipulate  the  negroes  and  lead  them  in  the  way 
they  should  go.  His  failure  was  the  result  of  natural 
indifference :  ours,  of  false  pride  and  blind  prejudice. 
They  were  compelled  to  have  leaders  of  some  sort,  and 
we  left  them  to  the  worst  sort.  We  are  more  to  blame, 
by  long  odds,  than  Denny  is." 

"Oh,  go  on,  go  on,  if  you  derive  any  satisfaction 
from  abasing  yourself  and  your  old  neighbors  in  order 
to  exalt  the  new  man  at  Rossmere.  Your  humility  is 
as  refreshing  as  it  is  rare.  Only  I  can  not  emulate  it." 

"  Denny  has  done  a  deal  more  for  this  county  than 
it  has  ever  done  or  ever  will  do  for  him,"  says  Mr, 
Southmead,  hovering  over  a  recital. 

Mrs.  Southmead  sniffed  scornfully:  "  Saved  a  levee, 
and  been  worshiped  for  it  ever  since  !  " 

"  Wife,  you  are  an  ingrate." 

"  Mr.  Southmead,  you  are  positively  abject." 

After  which  interchange  of  connubial  courtesies,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Southmead  turned  their  backs  on  each  other 
in  a  huff,  and  silently  addressed  themselves  to  slumber. 

Mr.  Southmead  redeemed  his  promise  of  telling  all 
that  he  had  to  tell  the  next  morning  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  A  somber  silence  fell  upon  the  group  as  he  told 
the  awful  story  of  Manton  Craycraft's  violent  death. 
'Sula  broke  it  by  asking: 

"  And  what  became  of  Squire  Thorn  ?" 

"  Robert  Owens,  who  rowed  me  across  the  lake  last 


304  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

night,  tells  me  that  his  grief  for  his  friend  and  remorse 
for  his  own  instrumentality  in  causing  his  death  became 
so  violent  that  he  had  to  be  removed  to  Doctor  Tay- 
lor's office,  and  placed  ander  the  influence  of  opiates. 
He  was  in  the  village  when  I  left,  Bob  says." 

"  Then  that  unfortunate  woman  was  alone  all  night, 
and  perhaps  not  mercifully  spared  the  horror  of  this 
news  as  you  spared  us,  uncle." 

"  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she  were  a  lunatic  by 
this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Southmead.  "  I'm  sure  I  should 
be,  in  her  place." 

'Sula  rose  from  the  table  with  her  sweet  face  full  of 
trouble.  Mrs.  Southmead  watched  her  hurried  move- 
ments uneasily  and  disapprovingly.  She  was  folding 
up  the  sewing  she  had  laid  out  for  the  day  on  the 
machine. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  'Sula?"  she  asked, 
finally. 

"  I  am  going  to  Mrs.  Thorn  as  soon  as  I  can  get  a 
horse  saddled.  Fred,  will  you  kindly  see  to  it  for  me? 
And  please  tell  Uncle  Ephe  I  want  him  to  go  with  me. 
I  wish  I  had  known  it  last  night ;  I  would  have  gone  to 
her  at  once.  Auntie,"  she  said,  a  little  later,  after  a 
hasty  getting  into  her  hat  and  habit,  "  we  haven't  been 
good  neighbors  to  that  poor  woman.  We  might  have 
lightened  her  lot  more." 

"  Mrs.  Thorn  selected  her  own  husband  and  her  own 
lot,  and  I  really  do  not  feel  called  on  to  condole  with 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  305 

her  on  her  bad  taste  in  the  selections.  I  think  your 
going  there  now,  'Sula,  is  the  act  of  a  crazy  woman." 

"  I  must  go,"  'Sula  said,  walking  restlessly  about  in 
her  long  habit.  "  I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  I  did 
not.  I  never  have  forgiven  myself  for —  '  'Sula  blushed 
furiously  to  the  roots  of  her  hair. 

"  Ursula  " — Mr.  Southmead  looked  in  perplexity 
from  the  saddled  horse  that  Ephe  just  then  led 
into  sight,  to  where  'Sula  was  eagerly  tying  her  hat- 
strings  under  her  back  hair — "  this  is  kindly  thought 
of,  and  it  sounds  mean  to  curb  your  womanly  impulse, 
but  I  don't  like  to  have  you  take  this  ride  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  Why  ?  "  'Sula  asked,  in  genuine  surprise. 

"  If  I  could  go  with  you,  or — say,  suppose  you  take 
Fred." 

"  But  Fred  has  lots  laid  off  to  do  to-day.  I  heard 
him  tell  about  it  last  night." 

"  If  I  could  go  with  you  myself,"  her  uncle  began, 
hesitatingly. 

"  Which  you  certainly  shall  not  do,"  says  Mrs.  South- 
mead,  positively.  "  I  know  Carl — poor  little  dear — 
and  I  are  not  of  much  importance  in  the  world,  but  I 
decline  being  left  alone  to  be  murdered  in  cold  blood." 
Mrs.  Southmead's  handsome  face  was  disproportion- 
ately placid  as  she  dwelt  upon  this  blood-curdling  pos- 
sibility. 

"  Why,  Uncle  George,  I  am  in  no  danger  alone  !     If 


306  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

I  were  in  any  trouble,  I  would  call  on  our  colored  peo- 
ple to  protect  me,  and  they  would  do  it,  too.  You  dear 
old  fogies,  you  and  Aunt  Amelia,  have  been  looking 
for  a  'general  uprising'  ever  since  I  can  remember,  and 
it  hasn't  come  yet.  Come  to  the  gallery  with 
me." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked  Mrs.  South- 
mead,  following  her  as  she  swept  out  of  the  dining- 
room  to  the  front  gallery. 

"  I  am  going  to  talk  to  Uncle  Ephe  about  that  awful 
affair." 

"  'Sula,  you  are  insane." 

"  'Sula,  this  is  very  indiscreet." 

She  heard  them  both,  but  she  called  down  to  the  old 
man  who  was  holding  her  horse  : 

"  Uncle  Ephe." 

"Well,  missy?" 

"  You  were  at  the  village  yesterday,  weren't  you  ?  " 
Ephe  shook  his  head  dolorously,  and  answered  deject- 
edly : 

"  I  wuz  dere,  Miss  'Suly." 

"  Your  people  were  very  much  excited,  weren't 
they  ?  " 

"  'Cited  ain'  de  word  fur  it,  chile — dey  wuz  crazy, 
plum'  crazy!  Wot  wid  mean  whisky,  en  mean  talkwid 
er  passel  er  po'  w'ite  trash,  en  der  heads  done  turn  kase 
of  Sam's  'lection,  dey  done  went  plum'  out'nt  dar  senses, 
en  a  black  day's  work  dey  done,  too ! " 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  307 

"  But  they've  had  time  to  come  to  their  senses  by 
this  time,  haven't  they  ?  "  'Sula  asked. 

"  My  dear  girl,  I  must  protest,"  said  Mr.  Southmead, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  My  dear  uncle,  you  find  it  harder  than  I  do  to  rec- 
ognize the  right  of  discussion  in  your  old  chattels.  I 
only  wish  you  had  talked  a  little  more  before.  Well, 
Uncle  Ephe  ?  " 

The  old  man  was  shaking  his  head  and  chuckling. 

"  Dat  Medger  Denny  fetch  'em  to  'em,  honey.  He 
fotch  'em  to  der  senses  wid  a  round  turn.  I  tell  you, 
missy,  he  talk  to  'em  lak  a  book.  Lak  de  book  uv  de 
Gospils  at  dat.  He  tole  'em  dey  wuz  mouty  anxious 
to  be  call  citizens,  but  dey  wuz'n  no  better'n  de  brutes 
uv  de  fiel'.  He  tuk  out  his  watch,  he  did,  en  he  'lowed 
'em  jis'  so  many  minnits,  en  no  mo',  to  cl'ar  out  from 
dat  co't-yard.  De  time  wuz  plenty  long,  chile.  Dey 
wuz  scart  for  der  own  devlishniss,  an'  he  scart  'em 
wus,  he  did,  ladies  en  gentlemin,  he  done  dat  ve'y 
thing." 

A  soft  flush  had  come  into  'Sula's  face  as  Uncle 
Ephe  gave  this  rude  resume  of  Stirling's  harangue, 
and  her  voice  quivered  suspiciously  as  she  asked : 

"  And  what  then,  Uncle  Ephe?  " 

"  Wot  den?  Dey  knowed  dat  wuz  de  word  wid  de 
bark  on  it,  chile,  an'  dey  made  deyseff  sceerce." 

"  What's  going  on  to-day,  old  man  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Southmead,  joining  in  the  conversation. 


308  THE  NE IV  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  Cotton-pickin'  and  prayin'  to  de  Lord  for  to  forgive 
yisterday's  devilment,"  said  old  Ephraim,  promptly. 

"They  are  sorry  for  what  they  have  done,  then, 
Uncle  Ephe?" 

"  Sorry,  chile  ?  Sorry  ain'  no  word  for  it.  Dey'd  give 
a  good  deal  to  ondo  it,  honey  :  a  good  deal,  but  dat  dey 
can't." 

"  You  see,  uncle,"  says  'Sula,  in  soft-voiced  triumph, 
"who  knows  them  best.  I  know  our  people,  you  know 
your 'hands.'  They  may  be  .lashed  into  temporary 
fury  by  low  and  designing  men,  but  their  wrath  is  as 
evanescent  as  the  foam  on  the  crest  of  the  wave." 

"You  have  proven  yourself  an  apt  pupil,"  Mr.  South- 
mead  said,  with  a  laugh. 

"Of  whom?" 

"  Denny's.  I  think  I  recognize  his  precepts.  He 
seems  to  have  imbued  you  with  his  own  dauntlessness, 
too.  God  bless  you,  dear  !  " 

'Sula  blushed,  and,  running  lightly  down  the  steps, 
was  soon  mounted  and  cantering  slowly  in  advance  of 
Uncle  Ephe  on  his  unambitious  mule. 

An  hour's  ride  through  the  bare  and  leafless  woods 
brought  her  to  the  gate  of  Thorndale.  The  shutters 
and  the  doors  were  all  closed  on  the  front,  giving  the 
house,  if  possible,  a  gloomier  look  than  ever.  Two 
skiffs  were  moored  to  the  stake  at  the  landing,  and  the 
wet  oars,  lying  crossed  upon  the  seats,  bespoke  recent 
arrivals. 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  309 

"The  squire  has  come  home,  I  suppose,"/Sula 
thought,  "  and  I'm  sorry  for  it.  I  should  so  much 
rather  see  her  alone." 

She  dismounted  and  found  her  way  into  the  house 
without  attracting  any  attention.  Her  knock  on  the 
front  door  remaining  unnoticed,  she  turned  the  handle 
and  passed  into  the  silent  hall.  There  she  paused 
irresolutely  a  brief  second.  The  stillness  was  so  death- 
like it  paralyzed  her.  She  knew  where  the  dining- 
room  was.  Mrs.  Thorn  was  probably  there,  for  the 
sake  of  warmth.  The  door  swung  creaking  on  its 
hinges  as  she  opened  it.  A  tall  form  rose  mechanically 
from  a  chair  before  the  fire  and  stood  motionless 
awaiting  her  approach.  It  was  Agnes,  with  pinched, 
white  face,  and  lack-luster  eyes.  'Sula  swept  impul- 
sively forward  and  clasped  her  arms  tenderly  about  the 
stricken  woman. 

"  I  have  come  to  stay  with  you,  to  be  your  friend,  to 
comfort  you  if  I  can,"  she  said.  "  I  have  not  been  to 
you  what  I  might  have  been,  but  you  must  let  me  atone 
for  every  thing  in  the  past  that  looked  like  cruelty." 

Then  the  still,  white  pain  in  Agnes  Thorn's  worn 
face  broke  up  into  tempestuous  sobs,  and,  dropping 
her  head  upon  'Sula's  shoulder,  she  cried,  and — was 
saved. 

"Thank  God  !  "  said  an  earnest  voice  behind  them, 
which  made  'Sula  tremble  under  the  weight  of  the  sob- 
bing woman. 


3 1 o  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Stirling  Denny  placed  his  hand  upon  hers  as  they 
clasped  Agnes,  for  a  second,  and  said,  in  a  tone  that 
thrilled  her  heart  even  in  that  moment  of  bewilder- 
ment :  "  This  was  good  of  you,  and  it  was  like  you.  I 
will  come  back  presently."  Then  he  left  the  two 
women  alone. 

Gently  drawing  Mrs.  Thorn  toward  the  lounge  by  the 
fire,  'Sula  seated  herself  by  her  side  and  led  her  to  talk 
of  the  events  of  the  past  day  and  night.  Agnes  told 
the  pitiful  tale  of  her  night  spent  in  the  cabin  of  old 
Lottie,  the  Voudoo  queen,  and  of  her  being  found 
there  by  Stirling  Denny,  who  had  come  to  take  her  to 
her  husband,  who,  they  told  her,  was  in  a  very  help- 
less condition.  "It  was  good  of  him,  wasn't  it?"  she 
said,  simply,  raising  her  head  to  look  into  'Sula's 
eyes. 

"  It  was  very  good  of  him,"  'Sula  answered,  looking 
far  away  toward  the  uncurtained  window,  at  nothing 
in  particular. 

"  But  he  is  good  to  everybody,"  Agnes  said,  dully, as 
if  she  were  trying  to  make  talk. 

"Yes;  he  is  good  to  every  body,"  'Sula  assented. 
"  Now  suppose  you  go  to  sleep,"  she  added,  soothingly, 
"  with  me  sitting  by  you  and  holding  your  hand.  You 
need  rest,  poor  dear.  What  a  night  of  horrors  you 
must  have  endured." 

Agnes  shuddered,  and  clung  to  'Sula's  hands  con- 
vulsively. "  I  can  not  sleep.  I  wish  I  could.  When  I 


THE  MAJOR'S  P  RE  SCR  IP  TION.  3 1 1 

close  my  eyes,  I  see  him— it— poor,  poor  Manton  !  You 
know  it  was  all  my  husband's  fault.  That  makes  it 
mine,"  she  said,  claiming  a  dismal  oneness  with  the 
squire.  "  We  killed  him  between  us.  Put  me  to  sleep 
if  you  can.  I  must  sleep !  I  have  to  go  to  the  village 
to  my  husband,  but  I  am  so  tired  I  couldn't  do  any 
good  just  yet.  I  couldn't  think  of  any  thing  to  help 
him,  with  my  head  hurting  so  badly.  I  want  to  sleep, 
oh !  forever  and  forever.  He,  Major  Denny,  was 
writing  something  for  me,  I  believe,  when  you  came  in. 
Send  for  it,  please.  He  said  he  was  going  to  send  for 
something  that  would  do  me  good.  Jim  will  go  for  it 
for  me.  I  feel  as  if  there  was  a  fire  here,  and  here." 

She  touched  her  heart  and  head,  then  turned  her  sad 
eyes  toward  the  desk  which  stood  behind  the  door 
through  which  'Sula  had  entered.  That  was  the  reason 
the  major's  presence  was  not  noticed  when  she  gave 
her  first  attention  to  Agnes.  She  walked  over  to  the 
desk  where  he  had  been  writing.  The  sheet  of  paper 
was  lying  as  he  had  left  it,  and  in  big,  bold  lettering  she 
read  and  re-read,  and  read  again,  without  once  realizing 
the  shocking  impropriety  of  her  own  conduct,  these 
words : 

"  My  Dear  Mrs.  Ralston  :  I  feel  confident  that  if  you 
knew  the  sad  condition  of  your  neighbor,  Mrs.  Thorn, 
this  request  for  your  presence  would  not  be  needed. 
I  regard  her  as  in  a  very  critical  condition.  She  needs 
a  woman  friend.  I  am  sure — " 


3 1 2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  KOSSMERE. 

That  was  all.  Her  entrance  had  brought  the  note  to 
a  sudden  termination.  'Sula's  usually  pale  cheeks 
flushed  rosy  red. 

She,  then,  was  what  was  to  do  this  sorrowing  woman 
"good."  His  thoughts  had  turned  to  her  when  he 
wanted  help.  Oh,  glad,  proud,  happy  discovery !  She 
went  back  to  Agnes's  side,  and  her  voice  was  ineffably 
soft  and  soothing  as  she  said :  "  Perhaps  Major  Denny 
has  gone  to  send  the  order  himself.  But  if  you  will  lie 
down  and  let  me  try  my  mesmeric  powers  on  you,  I  do 
not  believe  you  will  need  any  doctor's  stuff." 

Agnes  obeyed  with  the  docility  of  a  tired  child. 
'Sula  arranged  the  pillows  of  the  lounge,  and,  laying  her 
cool,  soft  hand  upon  the  fevered  brow  of  the  over- 
wrought woman,  she  gently  soothed  her  into  a  pro- 
found and  natural  sleep. 

When,  half  an  hour  later,  Stirling  Denny  re-entered 
the  room,  'Sula  was  standing  by  the  fireplace  gazing 
abstractedly  into  the  glowing  heart  of  the  fire.  He 
glanced  at  the  sleeping  woman  on  the  lounge,  then 
crossed  the  floor  softly  and  stood  beside  'Sula. 

"  My  prescription  has  worked  like  a  charm,"  he  said. 

'Sula  blushed  guiltily,  and  asked,  deceitfully,  "What 
did  you  prescribe  ?  " 

"  You  !  "  he  replied,  with  gentle  boldness.  "  I  came 
over  here,"  he  went  on,  quite  as  if  it  were  his  duty  to 
explain  matters  to  Mrs.  Ralston,  "  to  take  Mrs.  Thorn 
over  to  the  village,  by  request  of  Mrs.  Harris.  Squire 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  313 

Thorn  has  been  so  completely  thrown  off  his  balance 
by  the  shock  of  yesterday's  tragedy  that  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  it  ended  in  dementia.  He  has  been  re- 
moved to  Lawyer  Harris's,  and  it  was  thought  best  his 
wife  should  go  to  him.  But  I  doubt  her  ability  to  be 
of  any  service  at  present." 

'Sula  walked  over  to  the  lounge,  laid  her  hand  gently 
on  Agnes's  forehead,  and  came  back  to  the  fireplace. 

"  She  has  considerable  fever  now,  but  when  she 
wakes  up  I  suppose  we  ought  to  let  her  decide  for  her- 
self whether  she  will  go  to  the  village  or  not.  Why 
not  bring  her  husband  home?" 

"  He  raves  so  wildly  at  any  proposal  to  remove  him 
before  the  interment  of  my — unfortunate  friend,  that 
it  has  been  decided  best  to  humor  him  at  present." 

"  God  help  him  and  forgive  him  !  "  said  'Sula  ;  "  it  is 
hard  for  us  to  do  so.  He  is  old  and  feeble,  but  he  has 
proven  mighty  for  evil." 

"  It  is  indeed  hard  to  forgive  him.  His  own  suffering 
is  tremendous,  though.  I  would  rather  be  in  Manton's 
place  than  his." 

"  What  will  become  of  her  if  the  old  man  should  lose 
his  mind  ?  "  said  'Sula,  reverting  to  the  trouble  nearest 
at  hand. 

"  I  can  imagine  her  finding  the  strength  to  endure 
unto  the  bitter  end.  It  was  the  suddenness  of  this 
shock  and  the  medium  through  which  it  was  com- 
municated to  her  that  threw  her  into  her  present  help- 


314  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

less  condition.  What  will  we  do  if  she  is  not  able  to 
accompany  me  to  the  village  ?  "  he  added,  presently, 
looking  anxiously  toward  the  sleeper  on  the 
lounge. 

"  You  will  return  there  without  her,"  'Sula  said, 
smiling  at  the  perplexity  in  his  face. 

"And  you?" 

"  Will  remain  here  until  my  presence  is  no  longer 
needed." 

Agnes  moaned  in  her  sleep,  and  Ursula,  hastening  to 
her  side,  resumed  the  mesmeric  motion  of  a  cool  hand 
upon  a  hot  brow,  until  the  breathing  of  the  sleeper 
became  once  more  regular  as  a  happy  child's,  then 
went  back  to  her  chair  by  the  fire. 

"  I  have  a  confession  to  make,"  the  major  said,  very 
abruptly,  quite  as  if  he  had  been  preparing  it  while  she 
was  over  at  Agnes's  side.  "  I  have  wronged  you  in  my 
thoughts,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"How?" 

'  Sula  sat  with  her  hands  lightly  crossed  on  her  lap, 
a  graceful,  listless  attitude  common  with  her  when 
the  busy  hands  were  idle.  Her  eyes,  clear,  tender, 
honest  eyes,  were  raised  to  meet  his,  as  he  stood  lean- 
ing with  his  back  against  the  mantle-shelf  and  his  arms 
folded  over  his  broad  chest,  somewhat  as  if  he  were 
forcibly  confining  some  rebellious  outburst  of  feeling. 
There  was  a  look  of  such  eager  interest  on  her  sweet 
face  as  she  asked  that  laconic  question,  that  the  tempt- 


THE  MAJOR' S  P RE  SCRIP  TION,  3 1 5 

ation  to  stoop  and  press  his  lips  upon  her  smooth 
white  forehead  beset  him  sorely. 

"  I  have  coupled  you  with  other  women,  and  have 
been  angry  with  you  for  making  it  possible  for  me  to 
do  so.  I  fancied  that  you,  too,  had  failed  this  lonely 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  by  withholding  the  friend- 
ship that  would  have  been  such  a  priceless  boon  to  her. 
I  even  imagined  I  saw  you  give  your  countenance  to 
the  cruel  attempt  to  slight  her  that  was  made  on  a  cer- 
tain Sunday  we  both  remember.  I  want  to  beg  your 
pardon  for  wronging  you." 

"  You  did  not  wrong  me,"  'Sula  said,  bravely  and 
honestly.  "  I  have  been  very  un.kind  to  her.  I  have 
treated  her  worse  than  I  knew  it  was  in  me  to  treat  any- 
one. But,"  she  flushed  with  sudden  resentment, 
"  why  should  I  humble  myself  to  you  ?  What  right 
have  you  to  take  me  to  task  for  rny  social  short- 
comings?" 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  answered,  gravely.  "  How  greatly 
you  err!  I  was  taking  myself  to  task  for  having 
wronged  you.  Your  presence  here  to-day  proves  that 
you  were  not  among  those  who  laid  so  cruel  and  unjust 
a  ban  upon  the  squire's  wife,  does  it  not  ?  " 

"  I  was  guilty  as  the  guiltiest  among  them  all,"  she 
repeated,  and  the  clear  eyes  grew  troubled. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  why  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  No,  never !  "  Incautiously  'Sula  had  shed  light  upon 
a  dark  spot  in  the  major's  perception,  and  it  illumined 


3 1 6  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

his  face  in  a  flashing  smile,  which,  however,  soon  faded, 
and  he  asked,  soberly : 

"  May  I  go  on  being  impertinent  ?  " 

"  If  you  can't  avoid  it,  yes."  'Sula's  smile  was  kinder 
than  her  words. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  one  point-blank  question.  Has 
any  specific  charge  ever  been  brought  against  this 
unhappy  lady?  Two  point-blank  questions,  I  should 
have  said.  Do  you  believe  her  to  be  unworthy  the 
sweet  solicitude  that  brought  you  here  and  soothed 
her  as  all  my  clumsy  man's  sympathy  could  not  do  ?" 
To  his  dismay,  Ursula  Ralston,  the  quietest,  demur- 
est,  most  self-sustained  of  women,  suddenly  dissolved 
in  a  passion  of  tears. 

"  Don't,"  he  said,  in  a  choked  voice.  "  Every  tear 
you  shed  scalds  my  heart.  Ursula,  you  know  that  I 
love  you.  You  have  known  it  for  so  many  months  that 
it  sounds  trite  to  put  it  into  words.  Darling,  I  have 
been  trying  you  purposely.  I  knew  you  would  be  too 
honest  to  shelter  yourself  behind  the  flimsy  network 
of  excuses  I  manufactured  for  you.  I— 

"  Please  stop,"  said  'Sula,  growing  calm  as  suddenly 
as  she  had  grown  tempestuous.  "  I  am  too  honest,  I 
hope,  to  allow  you  to  continue  protestations  that  can 
never  result  in  any  thing." 

"Never  result  in  any  thing?  And  why?  Do  not 
forfeit  your  character  for  honesty  by  becoming  ambigu- 
ous. I  do  not  believe  you  would  wantonly  cause  dis- 


THE  MAJOR'S  PRESCRIPTION.  317 

tress  to  the  meanest  thing  that  lives,  Mrs.  Ralston ; 
therefore  I  must  charge  myself  with  being  a  consum- 
mate puppy  for  supposing  I  had  gained  any  degree  of 
favor  with  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  You  know  that  I  like  you.  Ah  !  my 
dear  friend,  why  have  you  disturbed  the  placid  current 
of  our  friendly  intercourse  ?" 

"The  placid  current  of  friendly  intercourse  is  not 
sufficient  for  me.  It  must  be  more  or  less  between  us, 
Ursula.  Which  shall  it  be  ?  " 

It  was  a  masterful  sort  of  wooing;  a  wooing  in 
keeping  with  the  man.  And  'Sula  felt  the  fullness  of 
a  response  that  would  have  made  them  both  very 
happy  singing  in  her  heart  and  crying  aloud  for  utter- 
ance. He  was  so  strong,  so  self-sustained.  Ah,  what 
a  restful  life  a  woman  might  lead  blessed  with  daily 
companionship  with  him,  uplifted  and  cherished.  The 
impulse  to  say,  "  Let  it  be  more,"  was  mighty,  and  hard 
to  resist. 

Instead,  she  said,  with  perfect  outward  calmness, 
with  only  a  drooping  of  the  white  lids  over  the 
troubled  eyes : 

"  Then  let  it  be  less." 

He  turned  and  went  away  from  her  without  another 
word,  and  presently  she  could  hear  the  sound  of  oars, 
and  she  knew  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  the  village. 
She  sat  very  still,  but  every  stroke  of  those  oars  seemed 
to  strike  upon  a  sore  spot  in  her  breast.  Her  eyes 


3 1 8  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

were  turned  upon  the  window  that  gave  a  small  section 
of  the  lake  to  view.  She  saw  his  little  boat  shoot  past 
the  narrow  strip  of  water  with  the  swift  motion 
of  a  picture  upon  the  slide  of  a  magic  lantern,  and 
then  the  landscape  ceased  to  interest  her. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

RETROSPECTION. 

SHE  got  up  and  walked  over  to  where  Agnes  was 
still  sleeping  heavily.  She  bent  over  and  touched 
her  upon  the  forehead.  She  would  not  have  been 
sorry  if  the  touch  had  awakened  her,  which  it  did  not 
do.  She  moved  away,  with  a  restless  activity  urging 
her  to  action  of  some  sort,  if  it  were  only  circulating 
round  about  the  room.  She  bestowed  an  absent- 
minded  but  minute  examination  upon  the  several 
common-place  chromos  with  which  Squire  Thorn  had 
gratified  his  own  crude  art  instincts  and  disfigured  his 
walls.  She  tip-toed  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of  a 
framed  photograph  of  some  Confederate  general  whose 
individuality  was  lost  in  the  blurry  picture.  Her  zeal 
for  information  brought  disaster  to  a  standing  work- 
basket  that  belonged  to  Mrs.  Thorn,  against  which  she 
inadvertently  leaned.  It  was  one  of  those  top-heavy, 
spidery-legged  things  whose  normal  condition  seems 
to  be  toppling,  and  which  seem  purposely  invented  as 
trials  to  one's  patience  and  tests  of  one's  dexterity. 

The    basket   toppled   promptly,   and   the   contents 
rolled  in  every  direction,  a  promiscuous  heap  of  spools, 


320  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

thimbles,  scissors,  cushions,  and  all  the  et  caeteras  of  a 
lady's  work-basket.  'Sula  gave  one  startled  glance 
toward  the  sleeping  woman.  Agnes  was  unconscious 
of  the  noisy  catastrophe.  'Sula  righted  the  basket  on 
its  untrustworthy  legs,  and  knelt  down  to  replace  the 
contents.  Her  task  was  purely  mechanical  until  she 
laid  hold  upon  a  soft  silken  and  morocco  object  which 
seemed  to  arouse  her  instantaneously  to  a  high  pitch  of 
interest  and  excitement.  Heretofore  she  had  been 
arranging  Mrs.  Thorn's  belongings  quite  methodically, 
but  now,  holding  the  object  that  had  so  excited  her  in  a 
tight  grasp,  as  if  fearful  it  might  elude  her,  she  threw 
the  remaining  articles  into  the  basket  pell-mell,  and, 
going  back  to  the  chair  by  the  fire,  she  dropped  rather 
than  seated  herself  in  it. 

Only  a  little  faded  "  housewife."  A  trifle,  com- 
posed of  silk  and  morocco  ;  faded,  dingy,  worn,  and 
valueless  intrinsically :  but  to  her  who  held  it  a  revela- 
tion, a  silent  message  from  out  the  past,  a  voice  from 
her  dead,  the  missing  link  in  her  chain  of  evidence. 

She  turned  it  over  and  over  in  her  hand,  sorely 
tempted  to  untie  the  faded  green  ribbon  that  kept  the 
creased  folds  in  place.  She  wanted  to  examine  the 
interior,  although  nothing  could  add  to  the  sureness  of 
her  conviction  that  the  housewife  in  her  hand  was  the 
one  she  had  made  for  her  husband,  Henry  Ralston, 
when  tearfully  equipping  him  for  departure  with  the 
first  troops  that  had  left  the  country  for  the  seat  of 


RE  TROSPECTION.  32 1 

war  in  Virginia.  She  could  tell  with  her  eyes  closed 
how  that  little  "soldier's  companion,"  as  they  were 
grandiloquently  called,  looked  inside.  It  was  lined 
throughout  with  a  piece  of  the  plaid  silk  that  her 
"  second  day  dress  "  was  made  of  when  she  was  mar- 
ried. The  pockets  were  all  of  plain  green  silk,  and  on 
the  three  white  flannel  folds  for  needles,  notched  all 
around  about,  the  initials  "  H.  R.  "  were  worked  in 
red  crewel.  She  turned  it  over  and  over  in  her  hands, 
impatient  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure.  She  must 
satisfy  herself  on  this  point.  Agnes  would  forgive  her. 
She  could  explain  it  all  to  her.  With  trembling  fingers 
she  loosened  the  bow-knot  of  faded  ribbon  and  opened 
the  housewife.  The  initials  "  H.  R.  "  stared  her  in  the 
face,  giving  confirmation  strong  as  Holy  Writ  of  her 
expectations.  She  instantly  retied  the  strings,  and  sat 
there  with  her  hands  tightly  folded  about  the  coiled 
morocco. 

How  did  it  come  into  Mrs.  Thorn's  possession?  and 
what  light  might  she  not  be  able  to  throw  on  the 
mystery  that  had  enveloped  her  husband's  fate  for  six 
years  ? 

Memory  reverted  to  the  day  when  she  had  clung 
about  his  neck,  loth  to  see  him  go,  but  not  daring  to 
bid  him  stay.  Only  three  or  four  letters  had  ever  come 
back  to  her.  Then  silence  ;  a  dead,  unbroken  silence, 
that  had  lasted  now  for  six  years.  That  Henry  Ral- 
ston was  dead  she  believed  in  common  with  all  her 


322  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

friends ;  but  so  far,  the  belief  remained  unsustained  h,y 
one  iota  of  proof. 

A  mightier,  deeper  love  had  come  into  her  life  than 
the  girlish  affection  she  had  bestowed  on  her  young 
husband,  and  it  seemed  no  treason  to  Harry's  memory 
that  she  should  recognize  what  was  good  and  noble  in 
Stirling  Denny.  She  had  been  a  new-made  bride  when 
Harry  went  away  from  her,  so  dashing  and  gay  that 
even  the  sadness  of  parting  with  his  month-old  wife 
could  not  quite  dampen  his  exuberant  spirits.  Of 
course  he  was  dead,  but  until  she  could  say,  "  I  know 
it,"  nothing  should  ever  tempt  her  to  marry  again. 

Perhaps  that  sleeping  woman  could  solve  the  doubt 
of  years.  Perhaps  when  Agnes  awoke  she  might  have 
'that  to  tell  her  which  would  give  her  the  blessed  privi- 
lege of  unsaying  the  seemingly  heartless  words  that  had 
sent  Stirling  Denny  away  from  her,  only  a  few  moments 
ago,  in  wordless  resentment. 

She  smiled  as  she  tried  to  fancy  herself  maneuvering 
for  an  opportunity  to  tell  him  that  it  might  be  more 
instead  of  less.  "  Hewill  ask  me  once  more,"  she  said, 
secure  in  her  woman's  prerogatives.  "  Men  always  do 
when  they  are  in  earnest." 

Then  memory  suddenly  flung  back  a  veil,  and  she 
seemed  to  see,  in  an  attitude  of  devotion  before  her, 
the  bright-faced,  brave-hearted  soldier  husband,  who, 
as  Mr.  Southmead  had  once  jestingly  put  it,  "  had 
courted  'Sula  at  every  important  epoch  of  his  life-- 


RETROSPECTION.  323 

when  he  went  to  college,  when  he  graduated,  when  he 
came  of  age,  when  he  took  possession  of  his  property, 
and,  finally,  when  enlisting  for  the  war."  Pity  had 
finally  triumphed,  and  Ursula  had  said  "yes"  when 
she  had  so  often  said  "  no,"  overcome  by  a  tumult  of 
emotions,  of  which,  perhaps,  love  was  least. 

"  Poor  Harry  !  "  she  said,  almost  in  the  old  pitying 
fashion  in  which  she  had  said  "yes"  to  his  final  asking, 
shrinking  from  wounding  the  heart  that  was  about  to 
be  offered  a  free-will  offering  to  his  country.  She 
smoothed  the  creases  in  the  morocco  case  with  a 
caressing  touch.  "  My  poor  Harry !  After  all,  I  was 
not  worth  such  patient  wooing  !  And  yet — I  think — 
I  made  him  happy.  He  said  I  did,  my  poor  boy." 

The  morning  was  well  on  the  wane  before  Agnes 
stirred,  opened  her  eyes,  and  fastened  them  in  a  stare 
of  momentary  surprise  upon  the  quiet  figure  sitting  in 
the  squire's  big  chair  by  the  fire.  She  lay  with  wide- 
open  eyes,  not  caring  to  speak,  enjoying  (if  the  word 
enjoyment  could  be  applied  to  any  sensation  she  was 
capable  of  feeling)  the  restful,  soothing  knowledge  that 
a  woman  was  near  her — and  that  woman  was  her 
friend. 

The  carefully  subdued  light  in  the  room,  the  fire 
burning  brightly  on  a  clean-swept  hearth,  the  Sabbath- 
like  stillness  of  the  house,  'Sula's  graceful  form  lending 
a  touch  of  refinement  to  the  room  that  was  never  visi- 
ble to  Agnes's  eyes,  herself  being  the  only  refined  ele- 


324  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

ment  usually,  all  combined  to  allay  the  almost  hysteri- 
cal agitation  she  had  been  laboring  under  since  the 
moment  when  Jim  Doakes  had  told  her  in  his  own 
clumsy  fashion  of  the  tragedy  at  the  village.  The 
night  just  gone,  with  its  gloom,  its  harrowing  grief,  its 
weird  hours  spent  in  old  Lottie's  cabin,  seemed  as 
unreal  to  her,  as  she  lay  there  following  the  graceful 
contour  of  'Sula's  profile,  as  a  hideous  dream.  She 
wished  this  blessed  calm  might  last  forever.  She  was 
in  no  haste  to  shorten  it  by  one  wo/d  or  so  much  as 
the  movement  of  an  eyelid. 

And  Ursula  seemed  under  a  like  spell.  Unconscious 
that  the  squire's  wife  was  watching  her  motionless 
form  in  a  dreary  reverie,  she  had  wandered  in  mind  so 
far  from  the  scene  of  her  bodily  presence  as  to  start 
with  uncontrollable  nervousness  when  the  door  opened 
and  Jim  Doakes'  tall  form  stood  framed  in  the  open- 
ing. He  glanced  at  the  two  quiet  figures,  and  then 
stood  irresolute. 

"  I  am  awake,  Jim.  What  is  it  ?  "  his  mistress  asked, 
rising  to  a  sitting  posture  and  turning  her  wan  face 
toward  him. 

"  Well,  'urn,  I  'lowed — I  'lowed,"  said  Jim,  twirling 
his  ragged  felt  hat  in  nervous  uncertainty,  ''to  find  de 
Medger  here.  I  'lowed  t'  row  him  back  t'  de  villidge 
ef  you  wuz  ready  to  go  over,  Miss  Aggy. " 

Agnes  knew  this  was  Jim's  way  of  calling  her  atten- 
tion to  the  necessity  of  her  going.  She  got  up  and 


RE  TROSPECTION.  325 

walked  over  to  'Sula,  looking  down  upon  her  with 
beseeching  eyes  as  she  asked : 

"  Must  I  go  ?  Would  you  go  if  you  were  I  ?  Can 
I  do  any  good  by  going?  Decide  for  me — I  do  not 
seem  to  be  able  to  think." 

'Sula  put  her  hand  on  the  one  Agnes  had  laid  upon 
her  shoulder.  It  still  felt  hot  and  dry  with  fever. 

"  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  go  in  your  present 
state.  Major  Denny  wished  to  leave  the  decision 
entirely  with  you  ;  but  he — 

"Where  is  he?  Not  gone  !"  Agnes  glanced  around 
in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  he  seemed  to — I  believe  he  decided  very  sud- 
denly that  he  must  return  to  the  village.  I  suppose 
he  thought  I  would  be  all  the  company  you  would 
need." 

There  was  a  flush  on  'Sula's  face  and  a  hesitancy  in 
constructing  her  sentences  that  betrayed  her.  Mrs. 
Thorn  impulsively  put  her  hand  under  her  friend'js 
chin,  and  looked  searchingly  into  the  eyes  too  honest 
to  aid  and  abet  the  duplicity  of  the  tongue. 

"  Surely  you  have  not  been  so  cruel  ?  You  have 
not — 

"  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Ralston,  in  a  louder,  firmer  voice, 
"  I  think  you  had  best  return  to  the  village  alone,  and 
tell  Major  Denny  Mrs.  Thorn  is  not  well  enough  to 
leave  home." 

"Will    not   a  written  message  be  kinder?"  Agnes 


326  THE  NEW  MAN    A  T  ROSSMEJtE. 

asked,  coaxingly.  "  If  Mr.  Thorn  wants  me — I — will 
go." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  best.     You  will  write  it  ?  " 

"  No,  you. .  Ah,  friend,  let  me  feel  for  one  little 
day  the  blessed  sense  of  unresponsibility  that  has  made 
this  morning  so  restful.  You  will  write  it  for  me.  He 
will  think  your  decision  right,  whatever  it  may  be. 
Why — what — you  haven't  been  at  work  ?  "  Her  eyes 
rested  for  the  first  time  on  the  housewife  'Sula  still 
held  in  her  hand. 

"  I  accidentally  upset  your  work-basket  while  you 
were  asleep,"  'Sula  said,  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice, 
"  and — and — wait."  Rising  hastily,  she  walked  over  to 
the  squire's  desk  and  wrote  :  "  Mrs.  Thorn  still  has 
fever,  and  is  otherwise  in  too  excited  a  condition  to  be 
of  service  to  her  husband.  The  trial  to  her  nerves 
which  his  condition  would  entail  would  be  a  grave  risk. 
I  strongly  advise  against  her  going  to  the  village,  but 
if  her  husband  expressed  a  direct  wish  for  her  presence, 
she  will  come.  I  will  remain  as  long  as  she  needs 
me.— U.  RALSTON." 

She  read  it  over,  undecided  whether  to  send  it  or 
not.  It  was  entirely  non-committal.  She  might  just 
as  well  have  written  it  to  Mr.  Harris  as  to  Major 
Denny.  Better,  for  Squire  Thorn  was  at  the  lawyer's 
house.  She  submitted  her  doubts  to  Mrs.  Thorn. 

"  Why  should  I  not  refer  this  matter  to  Mr.  Harris 
rather  than  to  Major  Denny  ?  " 


RETROSPECTION.  327 

"Why  should  we  take  all  and  give  nothing?  "she 
answered,  enigmatically,  smiling  sadly  into  'Sula's  per- 
plexed eyes. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Ever  since  my  arrival  in  this  neighborhood,"  Mrs. 
Thorn  said,  explaining,  "  the  man  whom  we  have  all 
tacitly  agreed  to  regard  as  a  traditionary  foeman  has 
been  spending  his  time  and  his  energies  in  quiet,  unos- 
tentatious efforts  for  the  good  of  the  people  among 
whom  he  has  cast  his  lot.  Every  unselfish  act  of  his 
has  been  accepted  as  a  sort  of  peace  offering,  and  a 
certain  amount  of  recognition,  more  or  less  meager, 
has  been  accorded  by  way  of  striking  a  balance.  He 
has  pursued  his  own  even-tenored  way,  without  fear  or 
favor,  doing  what  his  own  clear  head  and  generous 
heart  have  dictated.  And  now,  when  he  asks  for  the 
first  time  something  in  the  shape  of  reward,  it  is  denied 
him," 

"  What  reward  has  he  ever  asked  ? "  'Sula  asks, 
dashing  off  hieroglyphics  on  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  with 
fierce  energy  and  down-dropped  eyes. 

"  Only  a  woman's  heart ! "  says  the  squire's  wife, 
dropping  the  words  into  'Sula's  ears  at  close  range. 

'Sula  folded  her  note,  addressed  it  to  Major  Denny, 
and,  going  out  to  the  gallery,  where  Jim  had  discreetly 
withdrawn  pending  their  decision,  she  dispatched  it, 
feeling  quite  sure  she  had  done  all  that  politeness 
demanded.  She  hardly  waited  to  be  seated,  on 


328  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

returning  to  Agnes,  before  laying  the  housewife  in  its 
owner's  lap,  as  she  asked  : 

"  Mrs.  Thorn,  will  you  tell  me  how  that  came  into 
your  possession  ?" 

Agnes  viewed  the  article  in  question  with  indifferent 
eyes  as  she  answered,  carelessly : 

"This.  Yes,  I  remember  perfectly  well  how  I  came 
by  it,  and  I  believe  I  have  some  other  belongings  of 
the  same  poor  fellow,  somewhere." 

"What  was  his  name?"  'Sula  asked,  with  husky 
voice  and  tumultuously  beating  heart. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  remember,  though  I  suppose  I 
knew  at  one  time.  I  know  it  was  during  the  first  year 
of  the  war  that  this  housewife  came  into  my  pos- 
session accidentally.  I  was  living  with  a  brother,  since 
dead,  in  Richmond,  Virginia,  at  that  time.  He  came 
home  one  day,  bringing  a  sick  soldier  with  him.  You 
know,  in  those  times,  every  house  was  opened  and  every 
hand  stretched  forth  to  care  for  the  wearers  of  the  gray. 
I  nursed  the  owner  of  this  little  housewife  through  a 
terrible  and  protracted  attack  of  typhoid  fever.  He 
was  barely  able  to  be  about  when  he  was  ordered  back 
to  his  company." 

"  He  did  not  die,  then?" 

"  No,  though  I  hated  to  have  him  leave  us  when  he 
was  so  weak.  We  got  to  be  very  good  friends  during 
his  slow  convalescence.  He  loved  to  talk  to  me  about 
his  home — Louisiana,  if  I'm  not  mistaken  (so  many 


RETROSPECTION.  329 

events  crowded  upon  each  other  in  those  eventful  days 
that  we  easily  forgot),  and  his  pretty  young  wife.  He 
seemed  very  grateful  for  the  little  I  did  for  him.  He 
was  ordered  back  to  camp  very  suddenly,  and,  with  the 
proverbial  carelessness  of  soldiers,  left  several  things 
behind  in  his  bureau  drawer — this  among  them.  We 
never  knew  where  to  send  them,  if  indeed  they  had 
been  worth  sending  after  him." 

'Sula  leaned  over  and  took  the  housewife  out  of  her 
lap. 

"  Poor  Harry  !  "  she  murmured,  opening  it  again,  and 
smoothing  all  the  creases  out  of  the  faded  silken 
pockets. 

"  Perhaps  you  knew  him  !  " 

"  His  name,"  said  'Sula,  mechanically,  pointing  to  the 
letters  H.  R.,  "was  Henry  Ralston,  and  he  was  my  hus- 
band. I  have  believed  him  dead  all  these  years.  I  have 
no  proof.  Even  this  is  none." 

Agnes  looked  at  her  with  sorrowful  interest.  This, 
then,  she  thought,  is  the  reason  why  Stirling  Denny's 
wooing  went  awry.  "  I  will  bring  you  the  other  things," 
she  said,  and  left  the  room  to  fetch  them. 

She  came  back  with  a  parcel  done  up  in  an  old  Con- 
federate newspaper,  and  laid  it  in  'Sula's  lap. 

"  Each  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,  dear.  I 
wish  I  could  pour  balm  into  yours,"  she  said,  softly, 
and  left  her  guest  alone  to  examine  the  contents  of  the 
package. 


33°  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

They  were  mere  nothings  it  contained,  with  one 
exception.  That  was  an  unfinished  letter,  the  last  one 
he  had  ever  written  to  his  wife,  which  Henry  Ralston 
had  penned  at  intervals  during  his  weary  convalescence, 
meaning  to  dispatch  quite  a  budget  when  chance  of 
getting  it  through  the  lines  by  some  friendly  hand 
should  offer.  It,  too,  had  been  left  between  the  folds . 
of  the  atlas  he  used  as  a  portfolio,  and  found  by 
his  entertainers  after  he  had  gone  back  to  the 
army. 

"  Poor  Harry!  careless  to  the  bitter  end,"  'Sula  said, 
with  a  pitying  smile,  when  Agnes  told  her  of  this  find- 
ing. She  could  not  mourn  for  him  anew.  He  had  been 
dead  to  her  now  for  many  years.  It  was  no  longer  a  pain 
to  talk  of  him  freely,  even  cheerfully.  After  all,  her 
fancied  clew  had  only  led  her  into  fresh  mazes  in  the 
labyrinth,  had  only  added  to  the  uncertainty.  In  this 
letter,  which  had  reached  its  destination  so  many  years 
after  date,  her  husband  said  :  "  I  am  ordered  to  report 
for  active  duty,  but  where  that  active  duty  is  to  be 
performed  you  know  as  well  as  I  do."  That  was  all. 
She  was  no  nearer  the  solution  of  her  doubts  than  she 
had  been  before  the  discovery  of  the  trifle  which  she 
had  put  into  her  soldier  boy's  pocket,  with  minute  and 
reiterated  instructions  concerning  the  use  of  every 
article  in  it.  How  merrily  they  both  had  laughed  at 
his  clumsy  efforts  to  use  the  big  thimble,  and  to  thread 
the  large-eyed  needle  !  She  tied  the  package  up  care- 


RE  TROSPECTION.  33  r 

fully,  and  was  laying  the  housewife  back  in  Mrs.  Thorn's 
basket,  when  Agnes  re-entered.  "  Keep  it.  It  is 
yours,"  Agnes  said. 

"  No,  I  should  prefer  leaving  it  here."  'Sula  dropped 
it  into  the  basket,  then  encircled  Agnes's  slender  waist 
with  her  arm  as  she  said  :  "  You,  who  were  so  good  to 
my  poor  Harry,  what  a  return  have  I  made  you.  Twice 
this  day  have  I  been  reproached." 

"  Be  my  friend,  dear  Mrs.  Ralston,  in  the  days  to 
come,  and  I  will  forgive  you  for  misunderstanding  me 
in  the  past.  I  have  known,"  she  went  on,  quite  calmly, 
"  for  a  long  time  past  that  I  was  under  some  sort  of 
social  ban.  I  was  conscious  of  not  deserving  to  be,  but 
indifferent  to  setting  things  right.  It  was  my  visit  to 
Rossmere  one  evening  when  Major  Denny  was  getting 
well,  was  it  not,  that  set  the  tongues  of  idlers  wag- 
ging?" 

"  It  was  not  prudent,  dear,"  said  'Sula,  with 
an  upflaming  of  the  old  jealousy  that  she  felt 
ashamed  of. 

"  I  knew  that  at  the  time.  But  my  case  was  a  des- 
perate one,  and  I  took  a  desperate  remedy.  He  under- 
stood, and  he  never  blamed  me  !  " 

"  Then  neither  will  I.     I  have  been  cruel." 

"  No,  only  ignorant,"  said  Mrs.  Thorn,  sinking  wearily 
into  a  chair,  and  resting  her  throbbing  temples  in  her 
hands. 

A   thought-crowded   silence   fell   between   the   two 


332  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  XOSSMERE. 

women.  They  who  had  come  very  near  to  each  other 
on  that  sad  morning,  in  a  pact  that  lasted  between 
them  for  all  time  to  come,  felt  no  need  of  conventional 
commonplaces. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

POLITICAL   ECONOMY   OF   MR.  POTTER. 

A  YEAR   rolled  by  before   the  effects  of  the  panic 
which  had  its  foundation  in  Squire  Thorn's  rash 
display  of  disapproval  of  the  new  order  of  things  wore 
away  entirely. 

There  were  those  who  refused  to  believe  that  the 
subdued  attitude  of  the  freedmen,  following  as  it  did 
in  a  reactionary  form  after  that  one  wild  outburst  of 
brute  force,  was  any  thing  better  than  a  cloak  for  darker 
designs,  for  whose  development  further  time  and  fresh 
counsel  were  alone  needed.  There  were  those  who 
loudly  advocated  the  desirability  of  taking  justice  in 
their  own  hands,  on  the  eye-for-an-eye,  life-for-a-life 
principle,  unmindful  of  Him  who  hath  said,  "Ven- 
geance is  mine,  I  will  repay !  "  There  were  those  who 
came  to  the  violent  conclusion  that  the  country  would 
never  again  be  a  fitting  abode  for  white  men,  and  fled 
in  unreflecting  haste  with  their  wives  and  children. 
There  were  those  who  held  that  Stirling  Denny's  influ- 
ence alone  kept  the  turbulent  element  within  bounds, 
and  should  that  influence  be  removed  they  would  be 
left  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  a  set  of  beings  whose 
moral  perceptions  were  of  the  lowest  possible  order, 


334  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

and  who,  drunken  already  with  their  own  exaltation  to 
a  little  temporary  authority  over  their  former  masters 
in  the  person  of  Sam  Faythliss,  were  ready  for  any 
thing.  Such  convictions  impelled  many  to  seek  in 
more  civilized  localities,  and  under  more  intelligent 
officials,  that  security  for  life  and  property  which  all 
men  desire. 

A  dreary  winter  followed  upon  the  fall  elections  that 
had  been  attended  with  so  much  of  terror  and  tragedy. 
The  residences  of  a  great  many  of  the  planters  were 
closed  and  vacant.  Squire  Thorn  had  finally  been 
taken  back  to  his  home,  in  a  state  bordering  on  imbe- 
cility. Time  had  only  served  to  intensify  his  gloom 
and  his  helplessness.  In  faithful  ministration  upon  him 
his  wife  spent  the  days  and  nights  which  she  had  sol- 
emnly dedicated  to  duty.  She  had  begun  to  climb 
the  hill  "  Difficulty  "  on  her  wedding-day,  and  if  by  the 
eye  of  faith  she  could  see  the  shining  heights  afar, 
happy  for  her.  But  the  shadows  lay  thick  and  dark 
about  her  daily  walk. 

Stirling  Denny,  repulsed  a  second  time,  causelessly 
as  he  imagined,  by  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  given 
the  best  offerings  of  his  strong,  pure  nature,  withdrew 
into  himself  more  and  more,  finding  his  only  distrac- 
tion in  endeavoring  to  ameliorate  county  matters  for 
all  concerned.  It  was  not  in  him  to  brood  over  a  dis- 
appointment. If  the  joys  of  domestic  life  were  not 
attainable  by  him,  in  the  only  shape  he  craved  them, 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  MR.  POTTER.  335 

then  he  would  do  without.  He,  who  scorned  substi- 
tutes for  meaner  things,  would  certainly  never  accept 
one  for  the  only  woman  he  had  ever  desired  to  call 
wife.  It  must  be  Ursula  Ralston  or  no  one. 

The  Southmeads  were  leading  very  much  the  same 
sort  of  lives  they  had  led  from  time  immemorial — a 
sort  of  stolid  cheerfulness  that  partook  largely  of  the 
nature  of  resignation.  Carl  was  a  trifle  older;  Fred, 
many  degrees  stronger;  Ursula,  a  little  quieter,  a  little 
sadder,  but  infinitely  gentle  and  lovable. 

The  freedmen,  who,  despite  their  boasted  independ- 
ence, must,  for  many  years  to  come,  remain  mere  imi- 
tators and  reflectors  of  the  views  and  opinions  of  the 
white  men  nearest  to  them,  imitated  the  distrust  and 
reflected  the  gloom  of  their  superiors.  The  season  in 
question  was  a  veritable  winter  of  discontent  for  all 
concerned. 

Of  all  those  who  participated  more  or  less  directly 
in  the  troubles  that  Judge  Upps  and  his  colleague  Gays 
were  assuredly  responsible  for  in  the  eyes  of  God,  Man- 
ton  Craycraft  was  the  only  one  at  rest  where  they  had 
laid  him,  in  the  village  graveyard,  back  on  the  ridge, 
where  the  white  chrysanthemums  that  womanly  hands 
had  planted  at  his  head  and  feet  were  already  abloom, 
perfuming  the  air  with  their  pungent  fragrance. 

And  again  it  was  nearing  Christmas  time.  To  the 
dwellers  in  cities,  whose  year  is  punctuated  by  a  variety 
pf  anniversaries  scattered  through  the  months,  the  sig- 


336  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

nificance  to  both  white  and  black  of  this  one  holiday 
season  on  the  plantation  can  hardly  be  exaggerated. 
The  excitement  which  is  common  to  both  colors  is  of 
a  very  different  complexion. 

"  Christmas  times  "  means  total  demoralization  among 
domestics,  unthrift,  carelessness,  and  untidiness  galore, 
necessitating  an  extra  amount  of  exertion  and  super- 
human exercise  of  patience  on  the  part  of  the  house- 
keeper who  would  maintain  a  vestige  of  self-respect 
during  the  ordeal  of  that  one  week,  extending  from 
Christmas  to  New  Year,  which,  by  the  inexorable  law 
of  custom,  is  given  up  to  the  laboring  class. 

To  the  latter  it  is  looked  forward  to  from  one  coming 
to  the  next  with  childlike  eagerness.  If  the  men  can 
be  sure  of  the  wherewithal  to  purchase  a  supply  of 
whisky,  tobacco,  powder  and  shot,  with  perhaps  a  new 
pair  of  conestoga  boots  or  a  flash  and  shoddy  suit  of 
clothes,  they  ask  nothing  more  at  the  hands  of  fate. 
To  the  women  it  means  a  grand  shopping  excursion 
to  the  nearest  store,  where  their  hard  earnings  are 
speedily  converted  into  tawdry  finery  and  cheap  gew- 
gaws. The  increase  of  comforts  for  their  homes  is  of 
the  last  consideration.  They  are  too  migratory  in  their 
habits  to  care  for  such  unwieldy  belongings  as  bureaus 
and  washstands. 

But  neither  white  nor  black  citizens  looked  forward 
to  the  coming  Christmas  with  feelings  of  hilarity. 
Every  thing  had  gone  awry.  It  seemed  all  a  muddle, 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  MR,  POTTER.  337 

Superstition,  that  ever-ready  ally  of  ignorance,  offered 
a  solution  of  the  general  distress  to  Abram  Potter.  He 
took  gloomy  satisfaction  in  trying  to  prove  by  a  capit- 
ulation of  the  various  disasters  that  had  helped  on  the 
catastrophe  of  a  moneyless  Christmas,  that  the  Lord 
was  against  his  people,  and  was  emptying  the  vials  of 
His  just  wrath  upon  them.  His  favorite  place  and  time 
for  airing  these  somber  convictions  was  of  evenings, 
when  he,  seated  on  a  low  stool  in  Frederic's  room, 
blacking  the  shoes  for  the  three  male  members  of  the 
family,  was  at  liberty  to  express  his  views  on  all  subjects. 
His  untutored  but  oftentimes  sage  reflections  afforded 
Fred  never-ending  amusement. 

"  Yes,  sah,"  Abram  said,  for  about  the  fortieth  time, 
drawing  a  long,  restful  inspiration,  as  he  laid  down  his 
blacking-brush  and  held  Mr.  Southmead's  highly  pol- 
ished boot  off  at  arm's  length  to  criticise  the  result  of 
his  own  efforts,  "  de  Lord  is  ag'in  us,  sho' !  En  dat's 
gospil  troof,  ef  hit  ain'  nuthin'  but  a  fool  nigger  a  say- 
in'  uv  it.  An'  1  is  come  to  the  'clushun,  sah,"  he  con- 
tinued sententiously,  "  dat  I  is  foun'  out  whar  de  trou- 
ble mos'ly  lays  w'ich  is  brought  down  de  viols  er  wraf 
on  dis  yer  vale  uv  tears." 

"  Where  does  it  lie,  Abe  ?"  Fred  asked,  always  will- 
ing to  lend  an  attentive  ear  to  the  old  man's  quaint 
moralizing. 

Abram  polished  another  boot  in  solemn  silence  before 
delivering  himself  further. 


338  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  Hit  lays,  sah,"  he  said,  finally,  emphasizing  his 
remarks  by  a  measured  beat  of  three  right-hand  fin- 
gers upon  the  outstretched  palm  of  his  left  hand,  "  in 
de  fac'  dat  we  is  got  a  Joner  on  bo'd  de  ship  uv  state." 

"A  Jonah,  Abe!" 

"  I  makes  no  'punctions  in  sayin'  to  you,  in  de  pri- 
versy  uv  dis  room  er  yo*  n,  Mister  Freddie,  dat  we  is 
undoubtedly  a-sailin'  in  de  same  boat  wid  a  Joner." 

"  What  is  your  Jonah's  other  name,  Abe  ?  " 

Fred  asked  this  question  with  eager  interest.  Who 
knew  but  perhaps  the  name  of  Manton  Craycraft's 
slayer  would  at  last  be  divulged  !  All  the  united 
efforts  of  the  white  people  had  proved  useless,  so  far, 
to  discover  the  man  who  struck  that  deadly  blow. 

"  His  name,  sah,  hit  is  Samuel  Faythliss,"  said 
Abrarn,  promptly.  "A  nigger  w'ich  is  done  turn  fool 
hisseff,  an'  w'ich  ain'  gwine  to  res'  tell  he  mek  jes'  es 
big  fools  uv  all  de  res'  uv  de  niggers,  is  Joner  'nough 
to  swamp  de  best  boat  dat  ever  wuz  sot  afloat !  " 

"You  are  going  too  fast,  old  man,"  said  Fred,  seri- 
ously. "You  are  holding  poor  Sam  in  too  heavy 
responsibility  for  the  actions  of  other  and  deeper  men. 
He  was  nothing  but  a  tool  before  election,  and  he's 
nothing  but  a  dummy  now.  He  is  perfectly  harmless. 
You  know  his  white  deputy  is,  in  reality,  our  sheriff. 
Poor  old  Sam  !  he  soon  found  he  couldn't  stand  alone." 

"  Dat's  wot  I  bin  tolin'  yer  all  dis  time,"  says  Abram, 
eagerly.  "  Niggers  ken't  stan'  'lone,  don'  keer  how 


POLITICAL  ECONOMY  OF  MR.  POTTER.  339 

hard  dey  try  !  De  lone  bone  done  lef  out'n  his  'natimy 
altoogedder." 

"  Give  them  time,  Abe,"  said  Stirling  Denny'syoung 
disciple.  "  You  know  we  all  have  to  crawl  before  we 
can  run." 

"  You's  right  ag'in,  son,  but  weain'  done  no  good  by 
a-histin'  Sam  Faythliss  up  whar  he  done  got  de  dizzi- 
ness in  his  head.  You  see,  Sam  he  tried  to  run  fo'  he 
know  how  to  crawl  even,  en  what's  been  de  hupshot  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  what?" 

"De  same  Lord  w'ich  punish  dem  Babbyloners  fur 
der  foolishness  and  der  out-set-in-ness,  is  ag'in  proud 
an'  stiff-neck  folks  down  ter  dis  day.  Ef  Sam  had  er 
stuck  to  his  cotton  patch  we  wouldn't  never  hev  been 
a  moanin'  over  dese  hard  times,  son — no,  sah." 

"  I  don't  know,  Abe." 

"  But  I  does,"  said  Mr.  Potter,  emphatically.  "  Git 
out,  chile  !  w'en  de  nigger  git's  t'  knowin'  dat  he  is  got 
to  mek  a  contrac'  uv  mutualability  wid  his  w'ite  folks, 
he's  on  de  road  t'  wisdom,  en  will  fotch  up  healthy  en 
wealthy  en  wise,  and  not  'fore." 

Exhausted  by  this  forensic  flight,  this  unconscious 
political  economist  rose  to  take  his  departure  for  the 
quarters. 

"  The  lesson  of  mutual  support  and  dependence  is 
one  we  have  to  learn,  Abram,  as  well  as  yourselves, 
and,  thanks  be  to  God,  we  are  learning  it." 

"  Amen  !  "  said  Abram.     "  Good-night,  chile.     Bless 


34°  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

de  lam',  ef  I  is  done  turn  fool  I  ain'  forgot  how  to  give 
a  good  shine  to  de  boss's  boots." 

And,  ranging  the  six  shining  shoes  in  a  row  by  the 
wall,  Abe  took  up  his  implements,  and  went  to  give 
Mrs.  Potter  the  benefit  of  his  bottled  wisdom. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WON  OVER. 

QTIRLING  DENNY  sat  alone  in  his  library  the 
v3  morning  before  Christmas.  He  was  at  his  open 
desk,  but  not  writing  with  his  usual  directness  of  pur- 
pose. He  was  surrounded  by  a  confused  mass  of  let- 
ters and  papers,  which  he  was  examining,  sorting,  filing, 
and  destroying,  as  their  merits  or  demerits  suggested. 

The  contents  of  his  brother's  letter-case  lay  before 
him.  The  task  he  had  devoted  this  morning  to 
was  one  he  had  been  shrinking  from  ever  since 
Manton's  death.  He  knew  it  was  a  duty  he  must 
perform  some  time  or  other,  but  recognized  no 
necessity  for  haste  in  the  matter.  His  brother's 
unselfish  and  heroic  death  had  wiped  out  so  many 
of  the  old  scores  against  him  that  Stirling  shrank 
from  what  seemed  like  prying  anew  into  his  foibles 
and  weaknesses.  He  laid  down  his  pen  more  than 
once  to  clasp  his  hands  together  at  the  back  of 
his  head,  as  he  tilted  his  chair  back,  and  stared  re- 
flectively out  at  the  cedar  birds,  busy  among  the  pur- 
plish berries  of  the  cedar  trees  that  lent  their  ever- 
greenness  to  his  front  yard. 

To-morrow  Christmas  would    be   here  once   more. 


342  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Two  years  since,  he  had  first  been  made  welcome  in  a 
Southern  home.  Two  years  since,  he  had  first  met 
Ursula  Ralston  ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  quite  that  long 
since  he  had  been  loving  her  with  a  single-hearted  pur- 
pose of  marrying  her  if  he  could.  What  headway  had 
he  made  with  these  natives  among  whom  he  had  cast 
his  lot  for  better  or  for  worse?  The  majority  he  be- 
lieved he  had  won  over  pretty  thoroughly  ;  but  what 
did  it  avail  him  to  capture  the  esteem  and  affection  of 
the  ninety  and  nine  whom  he  cared  nothing  for,  so 
long  as  the  one  hundredth,  the  stately,  calm-eyed,  one- 
hundredth — Ursula,  maintained  an  attitude  of  reserve 
that  puzzled  and  pained  him  beyond  expression  ? 

He  could  see  her  now,  coming  toward  him  through 
the  folding  doors  at  Tievina,  that  pleasant  Christmas 
two  years  gone,  like  a  messenger  of  peace  and  good- 
will. Gently  cordial  and  thoroughly  friendly  then, 
when  he  had  expected  so  little  from  her  by  way  of  first 
greeting  to  the  man  whom  sectional  traditions  presented 
in  the  light  of  a  foeman — but  now,  when  he  had  shown 
her  his  heart,  when  he  had  grown  to  feel  a  daily  need 
for  the  frank  comradeship  that  had  marked  the  earlier 
stages  of  their  acquaintance,  their  intercourse  had  con- 
gealed into  studied  courtesy. 

They  met  only  occasionally,  more  often  at  Thorn- 
dale  than  elsewhere.  'Sula  was  Mrs.  Thorn's  chief  stay 
and  prop  during  that  dismal  winter,  and  the  major  gave 
much  of  his  time  to  the  stricken  old  man.  But  these 


WON  OVER.  343 

meetings  were  fraught  with  discomfort  to  both  of  them. 
There  was  such  a  palpable  effort  to  ignore  the  one  pas- 
sage in  their  lives  that  was  omnipresent  to  both,  that 
each  stood  self-convicted  of  duplicity. 

Stirling  was  wondering,  as  he  sat  there  watching  the 
busy  cedar  birds,  how  they  would  all  spend  the  day  to- 
morrow at  Tievina,  and  would  they  think,  of  him. 
Now  that  Manton  was  gone,  he  stood  entirely  alone  in 
the  world,  and  his  heart  craved  recognition  in  the  uni- 
versal brotherhood  of  humanity.  But  prolonged  repin- 
ing was  altogether  out  of  his  mental  routine  ;  so,  shak- 
ing himself  very  much  after  the  fashion  of  a  big  New- 
foundland dog  ridding  himself  of  a  surplus  of  cold 
water,  he  shook  off  what  threatened  to  be  an  unusually 
severe  attack  of  the  vapors,  and  fell  vigorously  to  work 
on  the  papers  before  him. 

He  came  finally  to  a  small  black  pocket  diary,  clasped 
with  a  broad  rubber  band.  The  year  1862  was  stamped 
on  the  flap  in  gilt  lettering. 

"  He  was  with  the  army  in  Virginia  that  year,"  the 
major  said,  musingly,  as  he  began  turning  over  the 
leaves  that  bore  record  to  his  brother's  active  service  in 
the  Federal  army.  The  events  of  the  war  were  of  too 
recent  occurrence,  and  his  own  participation  in  them 
too  real,  for  this  record  to  possess  any  very  vivid  interest, 
and  he  was  skimming  across  the  pages  with  heedless 
haste  when  the  name  "  Henry  Ralston  "  started  out 
from  the  page  before  him,  black  and  distinct. 


344  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE, 

"  Henry  "  contained  no  especial  interest  for  him,  but 
Ralston  was  a  name  that  must  always  arrest  his  atten- 
tion ;  that  was  why  the  following  lines  won  a  more  care- 
ful reading  from  him  than  he  had  yet  bestowed  on  any 
of  the  papers  : 

"  Mem. — Must  endeavor  to  send  through  the  lines  a 
gold  watch  and  cameo  ring,  confided  to  my  care  by  a 
poor  devil  of  a  reb,  who  was  shot  through  the  side  in 
the  engagement  to-day,  and  taken  prisoner  by  our  boys. 
Died  in  hospital  at  half  past  two  o'clock.  Asked  for 
an  officer.  I  went  to  him.  Begged  I  would  send  his 
watch  and  ring  to  his  wife.  Gave  me  his  name — Henry 
Ralston — last  gasp  came  before  he  could  tell  me  any 
more.  He  was  a  gentleman.  Shall  fulfill  his  wishes  if 
I  ever  find  any  body  who  can  help  me.  This  whole  war 
is  an  accursed  piece  of  barbarism.  That  boy's  face — 
he  was  hardly  any  thing  more — haunts  me." 

That  was  all.  Stirling  sat  staring  at  the  yellow  pages 
before  him  wistfully.  He  wished  the  record  had  been 
fuller.  Why  had  not  Manton  tried  to  discover  this 
poor  fellow's  wife  after  the  war?  No  doubt  the  name, 
even,  had  escaped  his  heedless  head  long  before  the 
coming  of  peace  rendered  the  fulfillment  of  the  promise 
possible.  He  knew  that  Ursula's  husband  had  been 
one  of  the  victims  of  the  war,  but  his  name  was  never 
mentioned.  The  Tievina  people  were  not  given  to 
egotistical  gossiping,  and  he  never  could  have  brought 
himself  to  find  out  from  others  what  they  did  not 


WON  OVER.  345 

choose  to  impart  voluntarily.  This  record  left  him  in 
doubt  as  to  whether  Manton  had  fulfilled  the  request 
of  the  dying  rebel  soldier.  Then  he  remembered  that 
when  kind  hands  had  prepared  Manton  for  burial  in 
the  little  village  grave-yard,  some  one  had  brought  him 
a  box,  telling  him  his  friend's  watch  and  other  valu- 
ables were  in  it.  He  turned  to  the  drawer  where  he 
had  placed  it  when  coming  home  after  the  funeral.  It 
was  barely  possible  the  watch  in  the  box  may  have  been 
the  watch  of  the  bequest.  He  had  never  noticed  it 
particularly  when  his  brother  was  wearing  it,  nor  when 
it  had  come  into  his  own  possession.  He  took  it  from 
the  box  and  examined  it  minutely.  It  was  a  double- 
cased  gold  repeater,  richly  chased,  but  with  no  initials  to 
serve  as  a  clew.  He  observed  that  it  was  of  a  peculiar 
thickness.  He  opened  it.  The  dial  was  like  all  watch 
dials.  He  closed  the  face  and  opened  the  back.  The 
works  seemed  of  ordinary  construction,  with  the  regu- 
lation number  of  jewels,  but  the  extra  thickness  was 
certainly  in  the  lid  on  this  side.  He  examined 
it  minutely ;  got  up  and  went  to  the  window  for 
the  benefit  of  a  better  light.  Opening  his  pocket-knife, 
he  ran  the  blade  of  it  slowly  and  cautiously  along 
the  rim,  and  struck  a  spring  with  a  suddenness  that 
made  him  start.  A  thin  disk  of  gold  revolved  on 
tiny  hinges  and  displayed  to  view,  in  the  concave 
back  of  the  watch,  a  small  ivory  miniature  of  Ursula 
Ralston. 


346  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Younger,  brighter,  more  girlish  in  her  beauty,  shyer 
of  eye,  but  unmistakably  Ursula  Ralston. 

Stirling  Denny  stood  there  a  long  time  gazing  upon 
the  picture  of  the  woman  he  loved  so  dearly.  Then  he 
closed  the  watch  with  a  snap  and  put  it  in  his  own 
pocket.  He  resolved  to  go  immediately  to  Mr.  South- 
mead  with  the  watch  and  Manton's  diary. 

He  had  been  so  absorbed  in  examination  of  the  watch 
that  he  had  not  noticed  the  entrance  of  a  visitor ;  a 
soft-footed,  mute-lipped,  humble  sort  of  a  visitor, 
nevertheless  a  visitor  with  an  errand  which  he  was 
eager  to  do.  An  imperative  bark  announced  this  vis- 
itor. "  Mingo,"  Mr.  Southmead's  lemon-colored  setter, 
was  standing  there  before  him,  his  sides  heaving,  his 
tongue  lolling  from  his  mouth,  and  anxiety  of  the 
keenest  sort  filling  his  intelligent  eyes.  Standing  or! 
two  feet,  he  placed  his  fore  paws  upon  the  major's  arm, 
and  barked  once  more,  quickly  and  imperatively. 

"  Down,  sir.  What's  the  trouble,  boy  ?  Carl  ?  Any 
thing  wrong  with  Carl?" 

At  mention  of  the  child's  name,  Mingo  dropped  to 
his  feet  and  started  hastily  for  the  door.  Stirling 
opened  the  lid  of  his  desk  and  swept  the  scattered 
papers  inside,  then  stooped  to  lock  the  drawers.  The 
delay  irritated  Mingo,  who  said  as  much  by  another 
impatient  bark,  as  he  halted  in  the  open  door  to  wait 
for  the  major. 

"  I'm  coming,  boy.     Is  it  Carl  that  wants  me  ?  " 


WON  OVER.  347 

Mingo  wagged  his  tail  assentingly,  and  once  more 
started.  The  invitation  to  follow  him  was  too  pointed 
to  be  neglected.  Major  Denny  knew  that  Carl  and 
Mingo  were  inseparable.  The  boy,  on  his  small  and 
trusty  pony,  attended  by  the  intelligent  setter,  was 
granted  large  liberty  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Southmead. 
The  major  was  soon  in  the  saddle,  and,  following  the 
dog's  lead,  galloped  to  a  spot  in  the  woods  scarce  a 
mile  from  the  house,  where  he  promptly  discovered  the 
occasion  of  Mingo's  summons.  Carl's  pony  was  tied 
securely  to  the  branch  of  a  tree.  Near  by,  at  the  root 
of  another  tree,  lay  Carl  himself,  writhing  in  all  the 
torture  of  a  broken  right  arm,  and  crying  with  fright 
at  his  own  forsaken  and  helpless  condition.  The  major 
lifted  him  tenderly  in  his  arms,  and  seated  himself  on 
a  fallen  log  to  examine  into  the  extent  of  his  injuries. 

4<  What  is  it,  my  man  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Mingo  told  me 
all  he  could,  but  I  expect  you  can  tell  me  more." 

"  I  was  a  comin' — I  was  a  comin',1'  Carl  gasped,  "  to 
see  you  and  tell  you  mamma  wanted  you  to  come  take 
Christmas  with  us,  and  a  lame  squirrel  went  hoppin'  so 
slow  up  the  tree  that  I  thought  I  could  catch  it,  and  I 
was  tryin'  to,  and  I  fell  out  of  the  tree,  and,  oh  !  I'm 
broke  all  to  pieces.  It  hurts  so  bad.  Will  it  kill  me?" 

"That  was  what  Mingo  tried  to  tell  me,"  said  Stirl- 
ing, talking  and  examining  bones  simultaneously ; 
"  and  now  you  know  just  how  a  wounded  soldier  feels, 
only  nobody  ever  dies  of  a  broken  arm." 


348  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

Carl  suddenly  developed  into  a  hero  in  his  own  esti- 
mation. It  made  him  forget  half  his  pain  to  be  likened 
to  the  wounded  soldiers  he  was  never  tired  of  hearing 
about.  He  smiled  up  into  the  face  of  his  friend,  then 
laid  his  little  head  confidingly  on  Stirling's  breast. 

"  But  we  will  have  to  get  home.  To  my  house,  I 
mean.  We  are  not  going  to  be  cheated  out  of  that 
visit,  are  we?  I'm  going  to  show  you  how  we  fix  sol- 
diers' bones  when  they  get  broken.  We'll  play  soldier 
in  hospital." 

"What  will  we  do  with  my  pony?"  asks  Carl, 
twisting  his  head  to  where  the  pony  was  heartlessly 
nibbling  at  the  branch  he  was  tied  to.  The  movement 
caused  a  spasm  of  agony  in  the  broken  arm.  "  Oh,  I'm 
broke  all  to  pieces.  I  ache  everywhere,"  he  moaned, 
his  blue  eyes  filling  with  sudden  tears. 

"  Poor  little  man."  Stirling  pressed  his  cheeks  to 
the  small  wet  face  with  infinite  gentleness.  "  Wounded 
soldiers  have  to  endure  a  great  deal  of  agony.  We 
must  send  Mingo  home  to  explain  matters  to  them. 
Could  you  stand  up,  quite  still,  you  know,  while  I  write 
a  note  to  your  father  ?  Now  then,  don't  wink  an  eye- 
lid even,  if  you  can  help  it." 

Standing  the  boy  on  his  feet,  and  hastily  tearing  a 
leaf  from  his  pocket  diary,  the  major  wrote  in  pencil 
to  Mr.  Southmead  and  read  aloud  to  Carl : 

"  Dear  friend  Southmead  :  Your  brave  boy  has  hurt 
himself  slightly  in  trying  to  climb  a  tree  a  little  too 


WON  OVER.  349 

tall  for  his  small  but  ambitious  legs.  He  is  at  my 
house,  where  he  wants  you  and  Mrs.  Southmead  to 
join  him  for  the  night." 

"  Is  that  all  right,  Carl?  "  he  asked,  preparing  to  fold 
the  note  and  tie  it  up  in  his  handkerchief  for  Mingo's 
convenience  in  carrying. 

"  I  want  Cozzie  too,"  says  Carl,  wishfully. 

"  So  do  I,  my  boy — and — she  must  come  to  us — some- 
time— yes,  sometime."  He  laid  a  caressing  hand  on 
the  boy's  rumpled  curls,  and  smiled  gravely  down  into 
the  small,  pale  face.  "  Now  then,"  he  added,  more 
lightly,  "  let  us  see  what  sort  of  a  postman  Mingo  will 
make.  Here,  boy.  Take  it  home.  As  for  this  gentle- 
man," loosing  the  pony's  hitch-rein,  "  he  can  take  him- 
self home.  Mingo  will  beat  him  there,  so  the  empty 
saddle  won't  cause  any  alarm." 

Mingo  was  already  trotting  briskly  homeward  with 
the  knot  of  the  handkerchief  between  his  teeth. 

"  Now  then,  Carl,  you  are  going  to  Rossmere  on  my 
lap.  A  little  bit  unsoldierlike,  maybe,  but  we  mustn't 
jolt  that  poor  arm  any  more  than  we  can  help."  He 
lifted  the  boy  in  his  arms,  and,  mounting  his  horse, 
started  slowly  toward  Rossmere. 

"Why  don't  you  take  me  to  my  house  ?"  Carl  asked. 

The  major  laughed  lightly,  and  answered,  mys- 
teriously : 

"  A  little  bit  of  strategy,  my  boy.  All  is  fair  in  love 
and  war,  Carl.  But,"  more  seriously,  "  don't  you  want 


35°  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

to  go  to  my  house  ?  It  is  miles  nearer,  you  know,  and 
we  can  get  the  doctor  ever  so  much  sooner." 

"  I  don't  care ;  yes,  I  want  to  go  to  your  house. 
Aunt  Maria  made  nice  things  when  you  was  sick  and 
papa  was  nursing  you.  But  Coz  must  come." 

And  the  young  man  echoed  the  child's  words  in  a 
low,  passionate  voice  :  "  Yes,  she  must  come,  my  boy  ; 
we  need  her,  you  and  I." 

Toward  midnight  of  the  same  day  Stirling  and  Mr. 
Southmead  sat  over  the  library  fire  at  Rossmere  in 
earnest  conversation.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Southmead  had 
arrived  in  an  incredibly  short  time  after  Mingo's 
delivery  of  the  note.  They  found  the  doctor  there 
before  them,  and  Carl's  broken  arm  already  set.  It 
was  the  major's  way  of  saving  the  mother  pain  ;  which 
act  of  consideration  had  won  Mrs.  Southmead  over 
with  a  suddenness  and  entireness  that  had  an  element 
of  the  comical  in  it. 

The  major  had  told  Mr.  Southmead  that  after  Carl 
and  Mrs.  Southmead  had  both  gone  to  bed,  he  wanted 
to  see  him  in  the  library.  He  gave  him  Manton's  war 
diary,  open  at  the  page  concerning  Henry  Ralston,  and 
the  watch  which  had  been  in  his  brother's  possession. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  he  asked,  leaning  against 
the  back  of  his  chair,  with  his  heart  beating  like  a  trip- 
hammer. 

"  Thank  God !  "  Mr.  Southmead  rose  in  his  excite- 
ment, turned  round  aimlessly,  and  sat  down  again. 


WON  OVER.  351 

"Thank  God  for  what?"  Stirling  asked. 

"  For  this  final  solution  of  all  our  doubts." 

"  There  have  been  doubts,  then  ?  " 

"  Bushels  of  them.  Enough  to  keep  as  conscientious 
a  creature  as  our  'Sula  wearing  the  willow  for  a  life- 
time, if  they'd  never  been  solved." 

"Tell  me  about  it,  please." 

"  Well,  you  see,  there's  nothing  to  tell.  He  never 
came  home,  and  we  took  it  for  granted  he  was  dead  ; 
but  we've  never  had  a  scrap  of  evidence  to  that  effect ; 
this  is  the  very  first.  I  regard  this  as  conclusive — don't 
you?  " 

"  Then  you  are  thanking  God  that  Henry  Ralston  is 
dead  ?  " 

"  Not  that  exactly,  Denny.  You're  deucedly  par- 
ticular, aren't  you  ?  But  I  do  thank  God  that  my  dear 
girl  up  yonder  will  no  longer  have  any  thing  to  feed 
her  morbid  fancy  on." 

"  She  has  been  fanciful,  then  ?  "  Stirling  says,  with 
an  eager  ring  in  his  voice. 

"  Deucedly  so  !  " 

"  Then  I  thank  God  too  ! " 

The  low,  fervent  tones  of  his  voice  enlightened  Mr. 
Southmead. 

"  Hey  !  what?"  He  got  up  again  in  his  excitement, 
but  this  time  it  was  to  wring  the  major's  hand  till  it 
tino-led.  "You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  Denny — " 

o 

"  That  I. love  your  niece  with  all  my  heart." 


35  2  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

"  God  bless  my  soul.  I'm  really  delighted  to  hear 
you  say  so.  If  I'd  have  dared  wish  for  just  such  a 
coming  together  of  the  blue  and  the  gray,  I'd  have 
done  it  months  ago." 

"  I  did  dare  it  months  ago,"  Stirling  said,  with  alow, 
light-hearted  laugh,  "  and  have  never  quite  recovered 
from  the  chill  of  her  frozen  repulse." 

"All  sentimental  bosh  !  'Sula's  a  good  girl.  There 
never  was  a  better.  But  Henry  Ralston  never  did  get 
into  the  heart  of  her  heart ;  and  I  think  her  long 
mourning  for  him  has  been  a  sort  of  penance  of  con- 
science. She  was  too  much  his  superior  to  look  up  to 
him.  He  was  a  rollicking,  race-riding,  jolly  chap, 
whom  no  one  could  help  liking  for  his  amiability  and 
generous  nature.  He  fairly  teased  her  into  marrying 
him.  They  had  been  married  only  a  month  or  two, 
when  he  went  off  to  the  army,  and  never  was  heard  of 
after  the  first  few  months  until  now.  But  if  he  had 
lived  to  come  back,  she's  just  the  sort  of  woman  to  have 
devoted  her  whole  life  to  his  comfort  and  happiness, 
and  he  was  just  the  sort  of  man  to  accept  the  sacrifice 
of  a  woman's  life  in  perfect  unconsciousness  of  any  self- 
ishness on  his  own  part.  You  know  there  are  such 
men,  Denny." 

"  Plenty  of  them,"  Stirling  answered,  absently,  for 
just  then  he  was  rehearsing  a  scene  in  which  'Sula  was 
to  reverse  that  coldly  spoken  "  Let  it  be  less,  then," 
and  to  tell  him  it  should  be  more,  between  her  and  him. 


WON  OVER.  353 

Mrs.  Southmead  was  sleeping  so  soundly,  after  her 
fright  about  Carl,  that  her  husband  magnanimously 
reserved  his  news  about  Henry  Ralston  and  the  major 
and 'Sula  for  the  next  morning,  during  the  period  of 
dressing,  when  so  many  conjugal  interchanges  of  vary- 
ing complexion  find  expression. 

Mrs.  Southmead  listened  with  rapt  attention,  then 
violently  relinquished  the  last  vestige  of  sectional  ani- 
mosity for  their  mortal  foe. 

"  He  is  certainly  a  remarkable  man,"  she  said,  refer- 
ring to  Stirling.  "  He  has  the  attributes  of  a  truly 
great  man,  George.  Calmness  in  the  hour  of  danger, 
good  judgment,  promptness  of  execution,  and,  with  it 
all,  the  tender  heart  of  a  woman." 

"  Won  over  at  last,"  Mr.  Southmead  exclaimed,  in 
indiscreet  triumph. 

"  Won  over  !  "  says  Mrs.  Southmead,  mendaciously. 
"  I'm  sure  I've  always  maintained  that  Major  Denny 
was  quite  out  of  the  ordinary  run.  I've  always  liked 
him,  but  now — " 

"  You  adore  him.  That's  all  right.  So  do  I,  so  does 
Carl,  so  does — " 

"  Cozzie,"  suggests  Carl,  always  mindful  of  his  own 
best  love. 

"  Cozzie  is  a  spiteful  witch.  She  wouldn't  come  with 
us  to  see  you  when  you  were  hurt.  We'll  have  nothing 
to  do  with  her  hereafter.  Let's  give  her  away  to  Major 
Denny.  He  knows  how  to  manage  spiteful  folks," 


354  '1  '//A'  NE  W  MA  NAT  ROSSMERE. 

"  He'll  make  her  come,"  Carl  said,  in  his  positive 
way  ;  "  he  said  he  wanted  her  too  ;  I  heard  him." 

At  which  his  father  laughs  so  joyously  that  Carl  con- 
ceitedly imagines  he  has  said  something  strikingly 
funny. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

CONCLU  SIGN  . 

HE  could  be  taken  home,  but  he  shall  not." 
Thus  dictatorially  the  major  delivered  him- 
self, standing  over  Carl's  bed  and  looking  down  upon 
that  small  hero  with  his  most  luminous  smile. 

"But  Ursula?"  Mrs.  Southmead  said,  hesitantly. 

"  I  am  going  to  drive  over  for  her  and  Fred  imme- 
diately after  breakfast.  I  claim  the  whole  Tievina 
household  as  my  guests  to-day.  What  shall  I  say  to 
the  cousin  for  you,  Carl  ?  "  he  asked,  passing  a  caress- 
ing hand  over  the  boy's  rumpled  curls. 

"  Tell  her  if  she  will  come  I'll  be  real  glad  I  fell  out 
the  tree.  It's  jolly  over  here." 

The  major  laughed,  and  promised  to  deliver  this 
message  verbatim. 

Ursula  was  standing  at  one  of  the  front  windows, 
wafching  with  keen  anxiety  for  some  message  from  the 
household  pet,  when  she  saw  Major  Denny's  bay 
horses  turn  from  the  public  road  and  trot  briskly 
toward  the  Tievina  gate. 

Things  must  be  very  bad  with  Carl,  for  him  to  be  the 
messenger.  She  met  him  at  the  door,  white  and 
trembling. 


356  THE  NEW  MAN  AT  ROSSMERE. 

"  You  bring  me  bad  news,"  she  said,  stretching  both 
hands  toward  him  as  if  seeking  support. 

He  clasped  them  together  in  one  of  his  own,  and, 
holding  them  so,  led  her  back  into  the  room.  Carl 
was  just  then  so  entirely  secondary  that  he  was  not  as 
prompt  as  he  should  have  been  in  relieving  her  anxiety. 
He  discovered  that  she  was  trembling,  and  gently 
placed  her  in  a  chair. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  prolonging  your  anxiety  by 
one  second.  No,  I  do  not  bring  you  bad  news.  Carl 
is  doing  very  well.  He  is  in  no  manner  of  danger." 
Then  he  delivered  the  boy's  message. 

'Sula  blushed  confusedly,  then  blushed  worse  with 
vexation  at  her  helpless  embarrassment. 

"  Mrs.  Ralston,"  Stirling  said,  going  about  his  errand 
with  his  usual  straightforwardness,  "  I  have  come  to 
make  one  more  trial  of  your  gentle  patience  with  those 
who  offend  you.  Neither  you  nor  I,  I'm  sure,  have 
ever  met  since  that  morning  at  Thorndale  without  a 
conscious  effort  at  indifference  toward  each  other.  I 
acknowledge  that  I  have  been  playing  a  part,  and  play- 
ing it  miserably  poorly  at  that.  Will  you  be  as  honest  ? 
I  am  tired  of  my  role  ;  bow  is  it  with  you — dear  ?  " 

"  I  thought,"  said  'Sula,  looking  at  .him  piteously, 
"  that  you  had  accepted  the  inevitable,  and — 

"Does  that  word  inevitable  (pardon  the  interruption, 
but  I  have  come  here  determined  to  get  behind  words 
to  things)  have  reference  to  your  state  of  feeling?  If 


CONCLUSION.  357 

you  will  say  to  me  that  you  do  not  care  enough  for  me 
to  marry  me  under  any  circumstances,  I  will  go  away 
from  you  and  never  trouble  you  again,  Will  you  say 
that  ?  " 

She  was  as  dumb  before  him  as  a  sheep  before  its 
shearers. 

"  Ursula,  do  you  love  me  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  you  could  be  so  merciless,"  she 
cried,  getting  up  and  walking  away  from  him  to  the 
fireplace,  where  she  stood  looking  down  into  the  danc- 
ing flames  with  burning  eyes  and  cheeks. 

"  I  must  be  answered,"  he  said ;  "  it  is  you  who  are 
the  merciless  one.  Is  it  because  you  have  doubts 
about  your  right  to  love  and  marry  again  that  you 
refuse  me  the  comfort  of  your  society?" 

A  tremor  throughout  her  slender  form  was  all  his 
answer.  He  bent  over  her,  and  gently  possessing  him- 
self of  her  hand,  compelled  her  to  look  him  honestly  in 
the  face. 

"  If  a  voice  from  the  dead  assured  you  of  your  free- 
dom, would  you  still  withhold  the  gift  of  this  dear 
hand,  Ursula?" 

"  If  a  voice  from  the  dead  assured  me  of  my  free- 
dom, I  would  let  my  heart  answer  yours,"  she  said, 
with  tender  gravity. 

"A  voice  from  the  dead  has  spoken,  and  you  are 
mine.  Oh,  my  darling,  my  sweet,  I  have  been  very 
patient." 


358  THE  NE  W  MAN  A  T  ROSSMERE. 

He  placed  the  watch  and  the  diary  in  her  hand,  and, 
walking  away  from  her,  stood  staring  out  on  the  wintry 
landscape.  Ursula  looked  at  them  in  mute  wonder  for 
a  second.  Then  Stirling  heard  her  say,  in  a  voice  of 
such  pure  pity  that  his  heart  leaped  within  him  for 
very  gladness. 

"  Poor  Harry !     Poor,  poor  boy  !  " 

Then  he  waited  in  patient  silence  for  more.  She 
came  over  to  him  presently,  and  stood  silently  by  his 
side.  The  watch  and  diary  were  in  her  left  hand.  Her 
eyes  seemed  to  have  grown  suddenly  deeper  and  darker. 
It  was  as  if  her  long-imprisoned  emotions  were  seeking 
an  outlet  through  them. 

"  Well  ?  "     It  was  all  he  could  find  voice  for. 

She  laid  her  hand  in  his.  "  Let  it  be  as  you  wish, 
my  friend."  Then  he  gathered  her  into,  his  strong 
arms  in  as  unconditional  a  surrender  as  rebel  heart  ever 
yielded  to  wearer  of  the  blue. 


The  next  new  year  saw  Ursula  Denny  reigning  in 
absolute  power  over  a  home  of  her  own — her  most 
loyal  subject  the  new  man  at  Rossmere. 

Frederic  and  Carl  are  divided  in  their  allegiance  to 
their  two  homes.  Mrs.  Southmead  declares  that  Major 
Denny's  influence  is  so  beneficial  to  the  boys  that  she 
can  not  be  jealous  of  their  devotion  to  their  Yankee 
cousin-in-law. 


CONCLUSION.  359 

Squire  Thorn  outlived  the  tragedy  he  had  precipitated 
not  quite  a  year.  He  died  with  a  blessing  on  his  lips 
for  the  patient  wife  who  never  faltered  in  well-doing. 
The  few  hard  years  of  her  life  at  Thorndale  bore  heav- 
ily upon  the  magnificent  physique  of  the  squire's  wife. 
She  turned  from  its  doors  when  duty  no  longer  bound 
her  there,  without  one  sigh  of  regret.  The  place  had 
never  been  a  home  to  her.  The  Dennys  opened  their 
hearts  and  their  doors  to  her  in  her  forlorn  widowhood, 
but  she  staid  with  them  only  a  little  while,  then  flitted 
from  the  sheltering  affection  they  offered. 

"  She  deserved  a  happier  lot,"  Ursula  said,  wiping  a 
tear  of  pity  from  her  eye  as  she  waved  a  last  adieu  to 
the  black-clad  figure  standing  upon  the  guards  of  the 
boat  to  get  a  final  glimpse  of  the  two  friends  she  was 
leaving  behind  her. 

"And  she  will  yet  have  it,"  said  .the  major,  cheer- 
fully. "  She  is  young.  She  will  outlive  this  dreary 
episode  in  her  life.  She  will  bless  some  man's  heart 
and  home  yet." 

"  And  be  blessed,  I  hope — as  blessed  as  I  am,  dear," 
said  the  major's  wife,  who  had  not  yet  outgrown  the 
trick  of  blushing  very  prettily  when  her  own  feelings 
came  to  the  surface. 

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MORGAN'S  HORROR. 

A  Romance  of  the  "  West  Countree." 

By  GEORGE  MANVILLE  FENN,  author  of  "  Sweet  Mace,"    "Parson  o'  Dumford,1' 
"  Poverty  Corner,"  etc. 

A  CRIMSON  STAIN. 

By  ANNIE  BRADSHAW. 
OTHER  VOLUMES  IN  PREPARATION. 

CASSELL  &  COMPANY,  LIMITED 
739  &  741  BROADWAY,  NEW  YORK, 


A     000  090  350    o 


